Redemption in blood
by praemonitus praemunitus
Summary: An old and extremely powerful evil has escaped and is gathering up its forces to end the world as we know it. Faced with this new threat, the Elders turn to the only other being they think may be powerful enough to stop it. But there's a catch...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had this idea a little while ago and thought I'd try it out on paper. Please note, this is my very first Charmed story, so, please, be kind. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed.**

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**Redemption in blood. Prologue.**

"This may very well be the end of the world, you know … If he succeeds…."

The Elder Menelaus gave a small shrug of defeat. "He already **has** succeeded, Arturo. We cannot touch him there."

"That is not entirely true," Elder Kronus interjected, taking a small step forward and clasping his hands firmly on the front of his white flowing robe. "We cannot interfere ourselves, yes. But we can send—"

"Whom?" Arturo interrupted. "The only thing that can **possibly** stop him now is the Omega spell. And to make it work, we would need—"

"The combined power of the strongest possible force of good and the strongest possible force of evil," Kronus finished, a light smirk twisting his features. "I know."

"If you're thinking of the Charmed Ones—"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Kronus nodded curtly. "The three witches are the most powerful source of good we have at our disposal."

"Even if that were true," a new voice spoke up, "there are no guarantees that they'll be successful. We can't risk losing the Charmed Ones!"

"You are forgetting yourself, Leo Wyatt," Menelaus spoke coldly. "You are no longer the witches' Whitelighter." He cocked his head slightly, ignoring the expression of indignation on the former Whitelighter's face. "And I agree with Kronus. They **are** our strongest weapon." He paused, turning to Kronus, his brow raised in expectation. "Besides, they would not be alone in their task. Right, Kronus? Am I correct to assume that you have a proper candidate in mind for us from the Dark Side?"

Kronus nodded, a mysterious half-smile twisting his features. "As a matter of fact, I do."  
The name that left his lips a moment later sent a shudder of anxious murmurs through the small group.

"Are you insane?" Leo exclaimed, advancing at the calmly smiling Elder. "Have you forgotten how much grief he brought the Charmed Ones? How could you even think—?"

"I have not forgotten, Elder Wyatt," Kronus replied in the same imperturbable manner, as he slowly pulled back the hood of his white robe, revealing a thick mane of wavy gray hair. "But he's the only one who can handle the power needed to complete the spell." He paused, hesitating, as if suddenly remembering something – something that almost made him change his mind. And then he amended in a somewhat quieter voice: "He has the potential to handle it, at least…. He has shown that."

"But—"

"I agree with Kronus," Menelaus intervened unexpectedly, coming to the Elder's defense. "The risk is great, but he does seem like the best candidate we could hope for."

Arturo shook his head skeptically. "I don't know about this, Menelaus. The Charmed Ones vanquished him. You don't think he'd be holding a grudge?"

Menelaus gave a small shrug. "His love for the witch was strong. Even till the very end." He glanced briefly at Leo, who stood stock still, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "That love will probably still be there … if we bring him back. … He won't harm them."

Leo opened his mouth to object, but changed his mind, shaking his head in a mixed gesture of resignation and disapproval.

"That's right," Kronus intoned, in turn giving Leo a short sideways glance. "Besides, if we're wrong about his abilities … if he's not powerful enough, Amadeus will destroy him. If we're right, the spell will. Either way, we don't risk anything."

"But how can you be certain that he'd agree to such a task … given these odds?" Arturo inquired slowly.

A cold spark flashed in the icy-blue eyes of the Elder. "I'd be willing to bet that he'd do almost anything for a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the witch." Kronus's lips twisted themselves into an unkind contemptuous sneer that gave his face an unsettling predatory look. "As for the odds, I don't plan on giving him **all** the details …" He paused, impassively scanning the faces of his listeners. "Do any of you think I _should_?"

Silence was his response. Dead, acquiescent silence.

Kronus's smile grew wider then, and he nodded curtly, throwing his hood back onto his head; its thick fabric casting a dark menacing shadow on his face. "It's settled then."

The four beings joined their hands together, forming a small circle, as they began to chant, repeating the same verse over and over.  
Suddenly, a pillar of thick white smoke appeared in their midst, twisting and turning wildly like a small tornado. The chanting grew louder, the smoke nearly swallowing up the four figures, burying them within its winding foggy mist.  
And then, just as suddenly, the smoke disappeared -- evaporated without a trace, and the four Elders each took a step back, staring intensely at the spot in the center of their makeshift circle.  
There, curled up in a fetal position, lay naked and shivering a figure of a man.  
Leo Wyatt cringed, studying the familiar form, but said nothing. It was not his call; it was not up to him to interfere. He continued watching in silence, waiting for Kronus to make a move.  
And Kronus did.  
Stretching his hand out to the shivering, disoriented form on the floor, the scheming Elder said in a calm even voice, "Welcome back to life, Cole Turner."

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**TBC**

**Please review**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reviewing, guys! Here's the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Again, I do not own them.**

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**Chapter 1.**

Light – bright and ubiquitous. It assaulted his senses, blinding him, disorienting him. _Where was he? __**Who**__ was he?_  
_"Welcome back to life, Cole Turner."_ – the words cut into his clouded consciousness, and, suddenly, the memories came back, flooding in on him like a giant tidal wave. And he gasped and sat up on the cold smoke-covered floor, looking wildly around him.  
A familiar face came into view, and he blinked, struggling to his feet. "Leo?" he croaked, his voice sounding weak and hoarse, almost alien.  
He coughed, clearing his throat. "Why am I here?" he tried again, and frowned, taken aback by the undisguised hatred that he saw flash in the eyes of the former Whitelighter.

"You shouldn't be asking me that," Leo answered coldly. "If it were up to me, you'd stay exactly as you should be – dead."

Cole didn't have a chance to respond to that, as another Elder spoke up, cutting him off.  
"Elder Wyatt still has trouble separating his personal feelings from his professional obligations," Menelaus drawled calmly, his gray eyes boring into the ex-demon's. "He still apparently takes issue with the way you have treated his former charges."

"I never-"

"But we have reconsidered your case," the Elder raised his hand, silencing him once again. "And we decided to give you a chance to redeem yourself, to prove that you are not evil at heart." He flicked his fingers, and a swirl of white lights enveloped Cole and vanished to reveal a white cloak covering his naked body.

The ex-demon cringed visibly, tugging at the soft fabric; an expression of disgust twisting his handsome features.  
"When I tried my absolute best to be good, you all have, in turn, done your best to damn me," he said in a cold flat voice. "Why, all of a sudden, would you want to help me _'redeem myself' _now?"

The Elders exchanged brief looks with each other, as if deciding on a best way to respond to his question.  
"It is … conceivable that we have been wrong about you in the past," Kronus offered finally, nearly choking on his own words. _"We need this demon,"_ he reminded himself. _"What's a little lie if it can help us get him to cooperate?"_

**"Conceivable?" **he scoffed, folding his arms defiantly on his chest, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It is hardly **conceivable** that the Elders would admit to any wrongdoing." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What is the real reason?"

Kronus winced almost imperceptibly. He was beginning to regret his decision. _Still, Amadeus needed to be stopped…._  
"Have you heard of a place called the Tower of Epsilon?" he asked quietly.

Cole nodded. "The prison where they keep the demons that could not be vanquished by conventional means."

"Correct. There was a group of very powerful demons a long time ago. They wanted power … the ultimate power. And they did not care who stood in their way – good or evil, they were ready to destroy them all."

"And the Good and the Evil joined forces and kicked their sorry asses. Couldn't vanquish them completely, so they locked them up in the tower, so they could never threaten the balance of power again. Yes, I've heard the story," the ex-demon quipped, shaking his head impatiently. "Is there a point to this history lesson?"

Arturo pursed his lips, his eyes gleaming in anger. "This is a serious matter, demon. Do not treat it with contempt!"

"I'm not," he objected. "But I'm still waiting to know what the matter is … exactly."

"There was a … an accident … at the Tower," Menelaus began slowly."

"An accident?"

"A breach. One of the prisoners managed to escape."

Cole cocked his head to one side, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "If I remember correctly, these demons were stripped of their corporeal forms."

The Elder nodded. "Like you said earlier, they could not be vanquished by conventional means. Only their corporeal forms were destroyed."

"Right. So what you're saying is that some spirit has fled the prison –"

"Amadeus is not just some spirit," Menelaus interjected harshly. "He used to be one of the more powerful of the group."

"**Used** to be?"

"And still is," Kronus added in a tight voice.

"How so?"

"Amadeus escaped into the past … 1941 Nazi Germany, to be more precise … to change the outcome of that war, to make the world succumb to evil. If he succeeds, as he is very close to doing, this world will be changed forever."

Cole heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes in frustration. "Do you, people, get off on melodramatics?" he snapped, ignoring the furious looks that assaulted him from four sides. "So he escaped into the past. He's still only a spirit. What can he possibly—?"

"He inhabited a human," Arturo supplied, eyeing him intensely. "He is now capable of anything."

A brief moment of silence followed, while Cole digested the information.  
"Why me?" he asked finally, referring to no one in particular.

"It won't be _just_ you," Kronus stated calmly. "Neither good nor evil alone can stop him now. If you agree to this task, you'll be working alongside the Charmed Ones."

If the Elder had just turned into a demon before his very eyes, Cole probably wouldn't have been as shocked. A violent shudder went through his body, and he drew a sharp painful breath, taking an involuntary step backward. "N-no … I can't," he mumbled weakly, shaking his head emphatically. "I … This won't work."

"Not necessarily," the Elder objected, taking a single step toward the distraught ex-demon. "You loved the witch, didn't you? You still do – I can see it in your eyes."

Cole paled at the suggestion and lowered his head, concentrating intently on a random spot on the floor.

"If Amadeus succeeds," Kronus continued with the same imperturbable calmness, "the balance of power will be destroyed forever. Many innocent people will die … Your witch will also die…." He paused, his eyes narrowing into two tiny slits. _He almost had him, he could feel it._  
"We are giving you back your life and your powers, so you could use them to help save this world, save all those lives, including that of the Charmed One. She will get to see your good deeds first-hand. This will be your chance to redeem yourself in her eyes. … Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Cole squeezed his eyes shut, as the memory of that fateful day – his very last memory before the final vanquish – flashed in his mind.  
_Phoebe. Her eyes cold, unfeeling; her hand squeezing the small bottle filled with pink liquid – his death. Her voice, full of hate, as she cruelly rejected his desperate plea for her to remember their love for each other, denying its power, denying its very existence. The way her hand didn't falter, as she threw the deadly potion at him; the way she stood there, unflinching, watching as the flames engulfed his body…._

"Phoebe's faith in me died a long time ago," he whispered; his voice barely audible in the sudden quiet of the white hall. "As did her love."  
He raised his head; the blue eyes slowly scanning the faces of the four beings that stood before him. And the four looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of the raw pain that assailed them from the blue depths.  
"What happens to me afterwards?"

The simple quiet question caused a moment of hesitation, and Kronus glanced back at his colleagues, silently asking them for support.  
"Your fate will depend largely on the outcome of your task, … should you agree to it," he answered evasively.

The blue eyes narrowed suspiciously on the Elder's face. _There was something else, something they weren't telling him – he was certain of it. They were planning to use him and then discard him, like they have done so many times before. But, somehow, he didn't care._  
"I'll do it," he said tiredly, a rueful smile twisting his lips. "After all, it beats going back into nothingness."

Kronus let out a breath, his eyes gleaming with relief. "Very well. I will let Leo take you down to the Halliwell Manor." He paused, an almost imperceptible smirk touching the corners of his lips. "He might be able to make the transition a bit smoother for you."

Cole nodded absently, casting his eyes downward once again. Lost in thought, he did not notice the departure of the three Elders.  
The remaining Elder watched him in silence for a while, his own thoughts jumping around in confusion. His doubts about the rightfulness of this mission becoming almost overwhelming. _Were they justified in using him this way?_

"Are … are you ready?" Leo asked finally, his soft voice breaking the tense silence of the room.

Cole raised his head slowly at these words, as if waking up from a dream. Their eyes met, and he smiled softly at the former Whitelighter. "Sure. I just have to do something first." He waved his hand, and the white robe that covered his body disappeared, replaced by a simple yet elegant dark-gray suit, a snow-white shirt, and a dark-blue tie that brought out the deep blue of his eyes. "This is much better," he remarked, fixing the already impeccable knot on the tie, and, glancing briefly at Leo's attire, added lightly, "No offense. I just never liked the Elders' sense of fashion."

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**TBC**

**Review, please ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Don't own them.**

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**Chapter 2.**

"Paige! What time did Phoebe say she was gonna be home?"

The youngest sister popped her head into the kitchen, scrunching up her nose at the thick smoke that spread from the direction of the oven, slowly filling up the entire room. "Was _that_ our dinner?" she inquired carefully.

"Never mind that!" Piper waved the towel she was holding, trying to disperse some of the smoke. "It's all under control." She threw the towel on the counter and pressed her fists tightly against her sides. "What time did she say she was gonna be home?" she repeated testily.

Paige shook her head, giving her a skeptical look. "Should be any minute now." She paused, taking a hesitant step toward her older sister. "You know, you've been a bit edgy today. Everything all right?"

"I'm fine!" she quipped and frowned, noticing the look of disbelief on her sibling's face. "It's just … I didn't get much sleep last night. Wyatt was restless…"

Paige nodded in sympathy. _It wasn't just Wyatt's restlessness last night. Piper was on edge ever since Leo left._ "Would you like some help?"

Piper was about to respond, when suddenly the air before her grew thicker, pulling together into a gray mass -- a blur that soon transformed itself into an image of a man. Both Charmed Ones jumped back instinctively, their faces – distorted masks of fear and distrust at the sight of the familiar figure.  
"You have **GOT** to be kidding me!" Piper managed finally, fear replaced by anger in her dark eyes. "What does it take for you to stay dead?"

Cole raised his hands defensively, trying to seem unperturbed by their angry glares. "Hey, this really wasn't my idea," he mumbled.

"He's right," a familiar voice acknowledged, before the girls had a chance to respond, and a swirl of white lights announced the coming of another visitor.

"Leo." Piper's voice caught in her throat, as she stared at the newcomer, surprise and hurt etched on her face.

"What do you mean 'he's right'?" Paige exclaimed, breaking the tense silence. "Whose bright idea was it to bring this – this **demon** back to life?"

Leo shrugged, looking upward, and winced in anticipation of the far-from positive reaction he knew was to come. And he was not wrong in his expectations. Only seconds later, the kitchen exploded with angry outraged tirades that poured on the former Whitelighter from the mouths of the two sisters, and any explanations that the former tried to insert in between the angry shouts were hopelessly lost.

The ex-demon, whose very existence was briefly forgotten, leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands folded calmly across his wide chest, and observed the scene before him with an amused air of an uninvolved spectator, a tiny smile playing on his lips.  
But the smile quickly faded, as he heard the front door open and a familiar voice cut through the clamor.

"Hey! What's going on in –?" Phoebe stopped in mid-sentence, frozen at the threshold; her eyes open wide in shock. "N-no," she mumbled slowly, shaking her head, "No. NO! This can't be happening!" She put up her hand, as if trying to block out his image and somehow make him disappear. "You – you're supposed to be –"

"Dead. Yeah, I know." Cole pushed himself away from the counter, walking into the middle of the suddenly quiet Charmed family circle. He promised himself that he wasn't going to let this get to him, wasn't going to allow the Charmed Ones' attitude penetrate the wall that he built around his heart when he decided to agree to this mission. But the undisguised fear and hatred he saw in Phoebe's eyes shattered that wall, sending a sharp dagger of pain straight into his heart. He closed his eyes briefly, hiding the flash of hurt that clouded the brilliant blue of his eyes. _He wasn't going to let them … let __**her**__ see his suffering. _

"Look, Phoebe," he began slowly, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of reconciliation, "I know you are not thrilled to see me. None of you are." He shrugged dismissively, a bitter smile creeping onto his lips. "And, believe me, I wasn't too happy myself when the Elders told me I had to work with you. But, as Leo's been trying to tell you for the past 5 minutes, there's an extremely bad guy on the loose. And, like it or not, we have to work together to stop him." His gaze met Phoebe's, and his features hardened almost imperceptibly. "So I suggest you three shut up and let Leo explain everything," he added coldly, as he broke his gaze and turned to the former Whitelighter, his brow raised questioningly. "Well?"

Leo gave an awkward cough, as all the attention was suddenly diverted to him. "Khm, yes, well … uhm, I think that we better go up into the attic."

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Phoebe stood in the attic in front of the Book of Shadows, her sisters at her sides, as if trying to protect her from the man who stood a few feet away from them by the window, his gaze fixed on some random spot outside. Protect? Phoebe laughed silently at the preposterousness of the idea. _How could they protect her from him; from a man … a demon they have tried to get rid of so many times – all of them, unsuccessfully. Here he was back once again, after she was convinced that he was gone forever. He was back, and her world – the world she had begun rebuilding so carefully after his last vanquish – has come crashing down the moment she saw his face. How could this be happening? Why?_  
Vaguely, she heard Leo say something about a demon that escaped into the past and needed to be stopped at all cost. _"I guess this is the cost,"_ she thought distractedly, her gaze traveling over to the lone figure by the window.

"So, let me get this straight, Leo" Paige spoke up, bringing Phoebe out of her reverie. "You, guys, have an accident in that prison of yours. This very powerful, very bad demon escapes, goes back in time to Nazi Germany with the plan to change history. He inhabits a human – and nobody knows exactly who that human is, so there's really no way for us to identify him once we get there. He is so powerful that way back when you couldn't even vanquish him. And now you expect us to finish the job that couldn't be done some hundreds of years ago? How, may I ask?"

Leo winced at the harsh tone. "I have already told you how he can be vanquished," he responded in as calm a voice as he could manage. "As for identifying him, I believe if you play your cards right, he'll find you himself."

The Charmed Ones exchanged brief glances before turning back to the Elder. "You mean he'll try to kill us once he finds out who we are," Piper clarified somberly, and the former Whitelighter nodded, casting his eyes downward. "Great plan," she muttered through clenched teeth, her mind suddenly drifting toward the little boy who was sleeping peacefully in his cradle downstairs. "What about Wyatt?"

"I'll watch over him," Leo assured her quickly, his gaze meeting her worried one. "He'll be okay." And Piper smiled briefly in response – a tense smile of gratitude.

"Why do we have to work with _him_?" Paige interrupted again, and it was clear to everyone which "him" she was referring to.

Leo glanced briefly in Cole's direction, but the latter remained standing in the same position, his back turned indifferently to the small group, as if none of this had anything to do with him. "The way the Omega spell works," Leo began carefully, "is by first trapping the … culprit and momentarily binding his powers, and then destroying him through the joining of the powers of good and evil. Both sides – the Good and the Evil – need to have their most powerful representatives to make the spell work. The … the side, whose powers were not involved in crime in question – that would be you, will read the spell, and that will create the circle of power that will bind Amadeus's powers." He paused slightly, throwing another awkward glance at the ex-demon. "The side whose powers committed a crime," he continued in a quieter voice, "will have to complete the circle. … Then, once the powers of good and evil are combined, Amadeus will be destroyed."

"And that would be this spell right here?" Paige asked, pointing to a short verse in the Book of Shadows.

"Yes."

"I have a question," Cole spoke up suddenly, making everybody jump involuntarily, as they turned in his direction. The ex-demon turned away from the window and walked slowly toward the former Whitelighter. "If all we have to do to destroy this demon is to use the Omega spell, why is it that it wasn't used the first time that Good and Evil tried to kill him and the others?"

It took all of Leo's self-control not to shrink back under the hard penetrating stare of the blue eyes. This was a perfectly legitimate question, a question that required a truthful response. Unfortunately, that was the one thing Leo couldn't afford to give. And, despite all of the hatred he harbored toward the ex-demon, the Elder couldn't help feeling ill at ease, as he heard himself utter the next few words. "They did try it," he said hoarsely, avoiding Cole's eyes. "They just … didn't … perform it correctly."

The blue eyes darkened slightly, as Cole regarded the former Whitelighter, who grew even more uncomfortable under his gaze. "What did they do wrong?" he asked slowly, already knowing that the answer will be no less evasive than before. He wasn't mistaken.

"Everything will become clear once the spell is activated," Leo mumbled, and the ex-demon nodded understandingly, a rueful smile twisting his lips.

Somehow he felt that the Elders didn't plan on him getting out of this mission alive, and Leo's evasiveness only confirmed his suspicions. _Oh, well._ He shook his head, turning to face the three witches who watched him with hostility and apprehension. "Shall we get on with this, … **partners**?" he said with mock politeness, as the former Whitelighter flicked his hand, causing the floor in the attic to pull apart, revealing a blue portal – a rift in time.

Cole bowed tauntingly to the Charmed Ones, his hand pointing to the newly-opened portal. "After you."

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**TBC**

**So, what do you think? Let me know. Please, please, please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Next chapter. I may be taking some liberties here and afterwards with dates and events, but, hopefully, none so grave as to get people really upset. Just remember, it's fiction, so, please, "suspend your disbelief", as the Bard suggested. **

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**Chapter 3.**

A mass of thick blue fog enveloped him the moment he stepped through the portal, and Cole felt himself being pulled downward through the blue mist with dizzying speed. He closed his eyes to at least lessen somehow the nauseating feeling of vertigo that threatened to overcome him, when, suddenly, his fall was ended, and he was thrown rudely onto the ground like a discarded toy. He grunted in displeasure, his lips forming a series of silent curses directed at the white-cloaked beings from above, as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet, taking a careful note of his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of an old cobblestone street, a gray building before him lying in ruins – a result, no doubt, of a recent air strike. The sky overhead, also gray and menacing, its eerie uniform grayness broken only by thin piles of smoke that rose on the horizon. The air was cold, almost unpleasantly so. _Great! Just great. _He shuddered involuntarily – more from a memory than the weather. He was all too familiar with that landscape.

"Someone should tell the Elders they need to work on their transportation skills … before they kill somebody," he muttered angrily, brushing himself off and throwing a brief sideways look at the three sisters who stood behind him at a careful distance.

"If by _somebody_ you mean _you_…" Paige began scathingly, but stopped short, noticing a lopsided grin that twisted his lips. "What are you grinning for? What's so funny?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking that it would be much easier for us to accomplish our task if you could stop fixating on the fact that I'm not dead." He shifted his gaze onto Phoebe, and his smile faded completely, as he added in a quiet but surprisingly even voice: "Once we're done, you're welcome to try vanquishing me again."

"Don't think we won't!" Phoebe snapped before she could stop herself, feeling a sudden unexpected stab of remorse at her cold words. _What did she have to feel guilty about? And why was she all of a sudden concerned about hurting his feelings? _She frowned, trying to gauge his reaction, but the expression in the blue eyes was unreadable, their gaze unflinching. It was as if he had expected that answer from her, and his next words only confirmed her suspicions:

"I never doubted it."

An uncomfortable silence that followed was interrupted by a series of rapid clapping noises in the distance, and Cole frowned turning in the direction of the sound. "We should get out of the open," he noted, adding with a poorly hidden sense of urgency, "Now!"

"What was that?" Piper inquired, hugging her shoulders to keep herself warm, as she took a hesitant step toward him.

"Gunfire," he threw over his shoulder, as he walked briskly toward the street corner and glanced cautiously out from behind the wall of the semi-demolished building. Only seconds later, however, he pulled back abruptly, flattening himself against the wall and motioning for the Charmed Ones to get out of sight.

The girls barely had time to follow his instructions, when the hollow sound of boots thumping against the cobbled roadway announced the passing of a small patrol of soldiers. _"Nazis. So that's what they looked like."_ Up until now, Phoebe had only seen pictures of them in her college history books and on those History channel specials she was never particularly interested in watching. This time, they were right in front of her, live, and the thought made her shudder.

"Who are you, people?" a young voice came from behind them thick with German accent.

The sisters whirled around, their eyes instantly catching a small figure of a child standing no more than two feet away. It was a girl – she couldn't have been more than 10 years old. A threadbare blue dress (a couple sizes too big) hung from her thin shoulders, its material flapping around her petite undernourished form under the occasional gusts of biting autumn wind. An equally old and torn pair of wool stockings covered her skinny legs. Her long dark hair was parted in the middle and braided loosely with frayed red ribbons, the two tangled braids resting carelessly against the tattered fabric of her dress.

"Who are you?" she repeated insistently, her large brown eyes watching the three of them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "What … what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Hannah," countered the ex-demon, and the little girl looked at him in surprise, her eyes widening in recognition.

"C-Cole?" she asked hesitantly and, without waiting for his response, she suddenly rushed forward, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around his legs.

The ex-demon frowned slightly, seemingly taken aback by such an open expression of affection, and then raised his hand hesitantly and began gently stroking the child's hair, all too aware of the intense amazed looks he was getting from the Charmed Ones.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," the girl whispered, her words pouring out in a jumbled mess. "Ich bin si … I'm so happy. I knew you'd come back. I just knew."

"Who is this?" Phoebe asked shakily, having finally found her voice. The scene before her disturbed her, bringing back the memories of Cole she used to know what seemed like centuries ago, of Cole she used to … love. _This was impossible. He was a monster. She knew it. She had seen it. And yet … this girl … so wary of them was so trusting with him… "Maybe that girl just didn't know him like we do,"_ she thought in a feeble attempt to squelch her doubts.

Cole turned his head toward her, his eyes boring into her, making her feel as if she was suddenly hopelessly naked under his stare, her feelings, her innermost thoughts – all completely exposed.

"Her name is Hannah," he said softly. "She lives around here." He looked down at the disheveled head of hair that was half-buried in the fabric of his pants. "And she should know better than to be roaming the streets at this hour," he added sternly, waiting until she looked up at him, a look of faked innocence in her dark eyes. "You know it's dangerous. You know what can happen."

"It's no less dangerous than for four American tourists," the girl countered, her face breaking into a mischievous smile. "Isn't that what they are, too? American? Are they magical like you?" Hannah's eyes were gleaming with excitement.

The Charmed Ones were floored. "How does she know about m—" Piper gasped, the mystery surrounding the relationship between Cole and this little girl becoming almost unbearable.

"Later," he interrupted a bit more harshly than he intended. "We **need** to get off the street before that patrol comes back."

"You can come to my place," the girl offered shyly, as she looked entreatingly up at the ex-demon, still clinging to his feet. "Mom will be so glad to see you…." And her face lit up when she saw him nod curtly in response. "Come on. It's right near here."

She led them into a basement of an abandoned building, weaving her way expertly amidst the rubble that filled the already cluttered unlit hallways. The others followed in single file, carefully tracing her steps. Phoebe tugged lightly on the sleeve of a jacket of the man in front of her. "Who is she, Cole, really?" she whispered, watching the girl with an ever-growing suspicion. "Is she a dem-?"

"**NO!**" he cut her off sharply, the blue eyes flashing in anger. Hannah stopped a few steps ahead of them, having reached her destination, and Cole, having glanced briefly her way to ensure that she couldn't hear him, turned to the middle sister, speaking rapidly in a low voice: "She's human. Just your average kid. I met her in 1938 in Berlin. The Source was quite … fascinated with Hitler, so I wanted to see for myself what … things were like … here. I … I didn't stay long. I had an … assignment elsewhere." He paused at some long-buried memory, and something elusive flashed in his eyes. " I came back here a few years later, but ... I couldn't … find her again." He turned back, fully intent on walking away, but stopped dead in his tracks as he nearly collided with the scrawny figure that stood in his way.

"You forgot to mention that you saved my life," she pointed out in an almost accusatory tone of voice.

Cole frowned in mock annoyance, half of him frustrated with her nosiness, the other half taking a small pleasure in the shocked looks that her statement plastered on the faces of the Charmed Ones. "Didn't your mama teach you about eavesdropping?" he chided her softly, unable to hold back a smile at her amused expression. "Go on. We'll be right there."

She nodded, scurrying over to the already opened door. Cole followed slowly in her footsteps, leaving behind the stunned sisters whose minds were now filled with yet more intriguing and tormenting questions.

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**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter. Thank you for reviewing! Keep it up :)**

**Disclaimer: The usual**

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**Chapter 4.**

The humble dwelling that the Charmed Ones stepped into following Cole was a tiny room (hardly any bigger than the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor), a cellar with a single window at the street level. Daylight rarely penetrated thick layers of age-old grime that coated the outside surface of the windowpane, and the room was almost constantly immersed in cold unwelcoming semi-darkness. Perpetual dampness intensified by the absence of heating made the place seem even less habitable. And yet this place has been a home to little Hannah and her parents for the past year.

_How could they live like that?"_ Phoebe shuddered, lowering herself gingerly onto a graciously offered shaky three-legged stool – one of the few pieces of furniture that adorned this home. Her sisters sat down next to her onto a long wide plank propped up at the two ends by small piles of bricks – a makeshift bench. In their eyes she read the same sense of bewilderment and unease that was plaguing her mind. She looked up at Cole who stood enveloped in a tight almost desperate hug by a tall, emaciated woman with dark wavy hair – Hannah's mother, and sighed. Somehow the events of the past few minutes have made her feel as if she had just stepped into a twilight zone. She desperately wanted to unravel the mystery that lay behind the strange relationship between Cole and this family. And yet part of her was resisting any knowledge in connection with that, as though she knew somehow that whatever she would find out would only serve to increase her doubts about her own actions and feelings toward him. The little girl said he saved her life. And he said that it happened in 1938, back when he was Belthazor, back when he was working for the Source. _How was that possible?_

Feeling her gaze on him, Cole pulled carefully out of the woman's embrace and turned to face his ex-wife. His expression darkened ever so slightly, the look of tenderness in the blue eyes replaced almost instantly by a cold mask of indifference. It was as if a wall had come down between him and the Charmed Ones, _"a wall we, ourselves, were probably responsible for,"_ Phoebe mused, despite herself feeling a slight pang of jealousy toward this family who seemed to have such an open and trusting relationship with him (something she used to have as well … ages ago).

"Would the three of you like something to eat?" a man's voice asked, bringing her out of her reverie. Phoebe looked up, her gaze meeting that of Hannah's father (Yakov, she believed, was his name). The man smiled kindly at her, shrugging apologetically. "We don't have much, but –"

"They are fine, Yakov. Thank you," Cole interrupted, throwing a hard glare at the Charmed Ones, as if daring them to challenge him. "Hold on to the food. Your family needs it more."

Yakov shook his head in disapproval. "They are our guests, Cole," he said with a note of reproach in his low voice.

"They are fine," Cole repeated sternly, putting an end to further discussion.

And Yakov shrugged helplessly, silently accepting his authority, as he turned and hobbled over to the window to sit and read under its feeble light.

"What happened to your leg?" Paige asked softly, trying to break up another awkward pause that followed this little interaction.

Yakov tore his gaze away from the newspaper, frowning in confusion as if uncertain as to what she was referring to. Then glancing down at his crippled leg, as if suddenly becoming aware of its imperfection, he nodded absently, his lips twisting almost imperceptibly. "Oh that…," he offered quietly, glancing back up at the three sisters. "The Nazis. Cole didn't tell you?"

The sisters exchanged abrupt looks. "Tell us what?" Phoebe prodded, her fingers digging unconsciously into the edges of her seat.

"Is this a recent paper, Yakov?" Cole interrupted once again, walking over to Hannah's father.

The latter nodded. "Hannah brought it yesterday night."

"Good. Can I have a look at it?" Not waiting for a response, the ex-demon sat himself down onto the cold floor next to the old man and began carefully inspecting the damp pages that Yakov hurriedly passed over to him.

"He doesn't like talking about that day," Hannah's mother whispered apologetically, a soft smile touching her pale lips. She sat down next to the Charmed Ones, her eyes – large and brown, like Hannah's – gazing intently into Phoebe's, as if expecting her to say something in response.

But Phoebe couldn't bring herself to speak, and it was Piper who spoke instead. "Sara … is it? What … exactly happened **that day**?" She reached out, squeezing her younger sister's hand in support. "We haven't had much luck getting any information out of him, you know."

Sara threw a quick cautious glance at the two men by the window and began speaking rapidly in a low conspiratorial whisper.

"My husband, he used to own a small bookstore a few blocks from here. It wasn't much, but it was getting us by, you know. Especially, when things seemed to be going from bad to worse with the economy … especially for Jews." She paused, a brief look of fear and distrust flashing in her eyes, as she surveyed the faces of the three sisters. But the cloud of suspicion dissipated almost as fast as it had come, and Sara continued with her story. "Two years ago, the Nazis organized an attack on all the Jewish businesses in the area. It was awful. They were breaking the windows, destroying everything that was showcased … And God help anyone who tried to interfere…" She closed her eyes, wincing at the memory. "When they came to our store, they didn't just stop with the window display." Seeing the confused looks on the faces of her listeners, she clarified, "Some of the books we owned were considered … illegal by the Nazi government."

"Why?" Paige asked quietly, her eyes riveted to the young woman's face.

A bitter smile twisted Sara's lips. "Mainly because they were written by Jewish authors."

Paige swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to hide her discomfort.

"What happened next?" Phoebe urged in a small voice.

"My husband tried to stop them from turning our store into a giant bonfire."

"And that's how he hurt his leg?" Piper guessed, and the woman nodded sadly in response.

"They shot him. … They would have killed him too, if it wasn't for my little angel." She turned her head slightly, inviting the Charmed Ones to follow her stare. The "angel" in question was at that very moment busying herself with re-braiding her stubborn hair. Noticing her mother's gaze, she smiled happily and strode over to the small crowd, settling herself comfortably on Sara's lap.

"She hung herself on one of the soldiers' arm," Sara continued, a look of undisguised pride gleaming in her brown eyes. "That's why he missed. … Otherwise, my husband would have been dead." She placed a soft kiss on the girl's forehead, her expression growing ever more serious. "He threw her down like a rag doll," she went on, her voice nearly breaking with unshed tears. "I … I tried to stop them, but …" She broke off, the memory becoming too much for her, and Hannah reached up with her little hands, gently encircling the woman's neck.

"It's okay, mama," she soothed. "I'm okay now."

The sisters watched the scene before them in awed silence. The horror that this family had been through was unimaginable … more so because it was caused not by evil magic, but by other humans.

Sara met their gazes finally, wiping away a stray tear that made its way down her thin cheek. "Cole saved her," she said simply, ignoring their tense expressions. "All of us, actually. … I don't know exactly how he did it, I didn't **see** what happened. I just know that one minute we had guns pointed at us, and the next … those soldiers were just … gone." She gave a small shrug, adding with a skeptical smile. "Hannah says it was magic."

"It **was** magic, momma," the little girl objected, her gaze entirely serious. "I saw it … everything."

Sara nodded. "Whatever it was – magic or divine intervention, we owe him our lives."

"_Hardly __**divine**__," _Paige thought sarcastically, but refrained from speaking her thoughts out loud. She glanced at Phoebe, whose eyes were fixed on the man at the other end of the room, and shook her head. _"Damn you, Cole Turner! You always find a way to reel her back in."_

"Did he tell you anything about him?" Piper prodded carefully. "Like who he was, where he was from…."

Sara shook her head. "No. And we didn't need to know. We knew that he was a good person, and that was enough."

The earnest simplicity of her response left them speechless. Phoebe dropped her gaze, staring intently down at her hands, as she absently tugged at the fabric of her dress.

_Cole saved this family. A demon. The Source's assassin. How was that possible?_ She couldn't understand.

A familiar baritone interrupted her confused train of thought. "I think I know what Amadeus is planning to do."

She looked up to find Cole standing before them, the newspaper clutched firmly in his hand. "We need to go some place to talk."

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**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, I'm back with another chapter. A bit more history here. Let me know what you think (hint, hint)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them.**

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**Chapter 5.**

"Well?" Paige began somewhat disdainfully, once the three sisters and Cole have stepped into a semi-demolished debris-cluttered room that was adjacent to Hannah's apartment. "What's the big secret?"

Pretending to ignore the youngest Charmed One, Cole eased himself calmly down onto a large slab of concrete in the middle of the room (in all likelihood, a piece of a partially collapsed ceiling) and waited in silence for the others to join him.

"This paper is dated October 3, 1940," he began, once the Charmed Ones were seated across from him.

"So?"

"I believe, Germany was in the middle of bombing British cities at the time."

"The Battle of Britain," Phoebe said hesitantly.

Cole offered her a tiniest of smiles. "I guess somebody was paying attention in history classes," he noted, making her blush slightly at the remark. "Anyway," he went on, "the paper is still raving about the wild successes of the German air force in crushing the morale of the British. However, if I remember correctly, the Germans weren't getting anywhere with those air strikes. In fact, that battle was over by the end of October."

"So what does all of this have to do with Amadeus?" Paige interrupted impatiently.

A small sigh escaped Cole's lips. "The bombing of Britain was Hitler's first defeat," he explained as calmly as he could. "He could have still recovered from it, however. But then came another one – a major one … Russia … the Soviet Union." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "The only way that Hitler could have succeeded at this point was if he never attacked Russia …," he trailed off, as another idea came to his mind, "…and if Japan never attacked Pearl Harbor," he finished slowly.

"Japan?" Paige blinked, not understanding.

"Yes, that's right!" Piper spoke up suddenly, her brown eyes lighting up, as she finally understood his train of thought. "If Pearl Harbor never happened, the US may not have been actively pulled into the war, and –"

"Precisely," Cole nodded, his gaze softening somewhat at the childlike enthusiasm of the oldest sister.

"So … Amadeus is going to try to prevent those things from happening?"

The ex-demon nodded. "If he chose this particular time, yes … that would be my guess."

"But how?" Phoebe questioned, intrigued.

"I don't know how exactly," he said truthfully. "He might have possessed some officer in Hitler's inner circle, and by now he would be trying to advise him on a new course of action. Perhaps to convince Hitler that joining forces with Stalin to 'divide the world', as they had originally planned, would be better for him in the long run … aligning himself with Russia instead of Japan… I don't know." He shrugged almost imperceptibly. "In any case, we need to stop him before he gets a chance to bring about any changes."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Paige interjected sarcastically. "By blowing up their headquarters … that Kremlin or whatever its name is?"

"I don't suppose anyone ever accused you of having **too** much knowledge … have they?" Cole murmured, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It's **Reichstag**, Paige," Piper corrected softly, looking askance at the ex-demon who couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Kremlin is in Moscow."

The youngest sister fell silent, biting her lower lip, as she tried to hide her discomfort. She couldn't stand the sight of the snide triumphant grin on that demon's face, _and to think that she herself gave him the ammunition to make fun of her…_

"At any rate," Cole continued after a short pause, "we can't blow up Reichstag … no matter how tempting that might sound. Remember, we are supposed to **stop** the history from being changed notto **change** it ourselves. Reichstag is supposed to be there at the end of the war, when the Russians capture Berlin."

"So what do you propose?" Phoebe asked quietly.

"We need to get his attention…. Get him out into the open." He frowned slightly, a plan beginning to form in his mind. "He was a very powerful demon," he continued, thinking out loud, "so he should be able to detect us if we are close enough… Same as I should be able to detect him…."

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" Piper exclaimed.

"I think it's worth a shot," he nodded. "If we get close enough to Reichstag … provided he's in the area … I could try scanning for him and –"

"He'll take the bait," Phoebe finished for him, exchanging brief glances with her sisters. "I think that might work."

"So, let's go then," Paige spoke up finally, still avoiding looking at the ex-demon.

Cole stood up slowly, his expression once again unreadable. "I need to do something first," he stated solemnly.

"What?"

"I need to get Hannah and her family to safety."

Piper shook her head impatiently. "We don't have time for this right now. You can do it after we're done."

"No," he snapped in a voice that left no room for further arguments. "There is no telling what would happen with that spell. Besides, even if we do succeed, the Elders will probably pull us right back into the present. There may not be a chance afterwards." He paused, his gaze, directed at the three sisters, suddenly becoming almost pleading. "I **need** to do this," he added quietly.

"Why?" Phoebe whispered, as she took a step forward, despite herself feeling drawn toward him at that moment.

He tensed, standing perfectly still, as he tried to force his thoughts away from the fact that she stood so close to him that he could almost hear her heartbeat. _"This doesn't mean anything," _he reminded himself harshly, _"This is just an assignment for her…."_

"Back there … in the hallway … I told you that I had come back a few years later to find Hannah and couldn't."

Phoebe nodded, watching him intently, her brows knitted in concern.

"That wasn't exactly the truth," he admitted, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I came back in 1945, after the war was over. … I looked for her … everywhere …. And I did … find her … eventually… or, rather, her name along with her parents'… in the list of the Jews killed in Auschwitz…" He closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth at the memory, and, as he reopened them, Phoebe felt her breath catch in her throat as she suddenly recognized the look in his eyes – that same look that escaped her earlier in the hallway. It was a look of pain, raw unadulterated pain, of suffering of one **human** soul brought on by the knowledge of failure to save another. He looked so vulnerable at that moment that she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch his hand. Instead, she watched him in silence, her eyes (if only he happened to look into them at that moment) speaking volumes even if she dared not open her mouth. But he had already looked away, his gaze fixed on some random spot on the floor.

"I was too late to save her then," he whispered hoarsely and added in a steadier, almost menacing voice, "but I'll be **dammed** if I don't try to do it now."

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**TBC**

**I'll try to get chapter 6 posted in a little while as well. In the meantime, please review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you, everyone, for your reviews! Yes, some of the Charmed Ones are slowly beginning to change their minds about Cole, but it is still an uphill battle :) We'll see what happens (wink, wink). **

**Warning: there are some graphic images in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Charmed.**

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**Chapter 6.**

"Where's Hannah?" Cole asked the moment they stepped back into her parents' apartment.

Hannah's mother was mixing something in a cast-iron pot that stood atop a small kerosene stove by the window. She looked up at his words, a tired smile brightening her gaunt features. "She went out to get some bread for dinner." Sara nodded at the pot in front of her and added, her voice tinged with a bit of hostess's pride, "We had a little bit of beef left. I put it in some water – we'll have soup. And with bread – it will be a very good dinner."

"Wow," Piper exclaimed without much enthusiasm. "Sounds like a veritable feast…."

"It **is** for **them**," Cole hissed above her ear loud enough for only the Charmed Ones to hear. Not bothering to wait for her reaction, he turned his attention back to Sara and the rapidly thickening darkness behind the dirt-covered window. "Where is she going to get bread at this hour?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice. "Aren't the stores closed by now?"

"Stores?" Sara seemed almost surprised by the idea. " Oh, **no**, we don't have any money to go to the store," she explained, "There is an old German lady who lives a couple of blocks away – she likes Hannah, she helps us out sometimes."

"And you trust her?"

Sara shrugged. "Why not? She was always good to us…" she trailed off, noticing the strange expression on his face. "What is it? What is wrong?"

"Times are changing, Sara … and not for the better. What may have been true even a few months ago, may no longer be so."

She paled, looking over at her husband, her eyes begging him for support.

Yakov responded to his wife's plea with a brief calming nod. "What are you suggesting, Cole?" he challenged, rising from his concrete "chair", "That we cannot even trust our friends?"

"That's precisely what I'm suggesting," Cole retorted, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "You are no longer safe here." He raised his hand, forestalling their arguments. "You weren't safe back in '38. That day in your bookstore should have made that clear. Hell, you weren't safe ever since that madman with silly moustache came to power-" He took a breath, shaking his head. A stream of memories flooded his mind: images of pits filled with disfigured emaciated bodies -- human _skeletons_ covered with skin; a pungent smell of burnt flesh in the air; a group of living skeletons (the only thing that distinguished them from the dead was the fact that some of them were still moving) standing behind the barbed-wire fence, staring uncomprehending at their would-be liberators -- all the madness he had to witness under the Source's orders…. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase away the disturbing pictures. "You _need_ to leave here," he said tightly, after a moment of silence.

"Leave?" Yakov huffed in indignation. "And go where?"

"Any country that isn't intent on annihilating its Jewish population!" he quipped, instantly regretting his words, as he saw the horrified expression on Sara's face.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Yakov interrupted her. "Annihilating? That is absurd! Germany is a civilized country, **my** country. This is just a temporary madness. It will pass." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, encompassing everything that was in the room. "My father lived and died in this country, and his father before him. This is my motherland, and Sara's, and Hannah's. I don't want my child to lose her country, her homeland."

"Would you rather she lost her **life**?!" Cole snapped, taking a threatening step in Yakov's direction. Fists clenched tightly at his sides, eyes blazing with unkind fire, he glared at the other man, barely controlling his raging emotions.

The Charmed Ones, stunned by this sudden outburst, were about to interfere on Yakov's behalf, when the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and seconds later Hannah burst through the door, her expression resembling that of a cornered animal.

"The … the Nazis … Frau Müller … they … were … in … her house," she breathed out, her large brown eyes filled with horror. "I ran … but … they … I think they're coming … here." She noted the tense expressions on the faces of the six adults in the room and sniffed apologetically. "I'm sorry, mama."

Sara held out her shaking hands, quickly enveloping her frightened daughter in a tight hug. "It is not your fault, honey," she whispered, directing a hopeful gaze at Cole. "What now?" she mouthed.

Before the latter had a chance to respond, however, a new set of footsteps – louder and heavier than before – disturbed the emptiness of the hallway. _It was them._

Cole glanced at the small family before him. _He needed to do something. NOW!_ _The footsteps were getting closer. _

He thrust his hand in the direction of the door, his lips moving in a silent chant.

"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked quietly, once he stopped chanting.

"Making a temporary shield to buy us some time." He turned to the Charmed Ones, a look of determination on his face. "I need you to get them out of here, while I hold these guys off."

"What?!"

"Get... them... out of here," he repeated firmly. "To safety."

"And just where is that?" Paige inquired, glancing fearfully in the direction of the door, behind which the insistent knocking could already be heard.

He thought for a moment, trying desperately to remember the names of countries, which, at least to his knowledge, were helping Jews during the war. "Sweden," he exclaimed finally. "Sweden or Spain. Or even Denmark … they might be okay in Denmark."

"What? How are we supposed to get there?"

"Orb, for God's sakes!" Cole was beginning to lose his patience.

"But I've never been to any of those places," Paige protested. "I wouldn't know where to orb."

The knocking grew louder now, the door slowly starting to give in under pressure. The shield was still holding, but its power was beginning to fail as well. Cole could feel it.

"Listen," he began slowly, trying to keep his voice level, "just get them outside – they can draw you a map then, for all I care. Get them out of this hole and out of this country!"

Paige watched him silently for a moment, considering his words. "And what are you gonna do?" she challenged finally, her cockiness creeping back into her voice. "Kill these guys off while we're gone?"

Cole gritted his teeth, his anger slowly getting the better of him. "Those Nazis are not your Innocents, Paige! **They** are!" he growled, pointing at Hannah and her parents. "That's who you should be worried about."

Suddenly, as if jolted by his words, Hannah let go of her mother's hand and rushed over to where he stood, grabbing him tightly by the hand. "I don't want you to stay here," she declared adamantly. "You'll get hurt."

A tense but tender smile touched his lips, and he bent down slightly and kissed the top of the little girl's head. "I'll be fine, Hannah," he whispered. "You go with you parents. I'll see you later."

"You promise?" her dark eyes were filled with worry, and that genuine concern struck him at the very core.

He swallowed hard, forcing back a lump that formed in his throat. "I promise," he managed hoarsely. "Now go." And the little girl complied, running back to her mother's side.

"I'm staying with you," Phoebe declared suddenly, surprising herself, her sisters, and him. "I'll help."

He stared at her speechless for a moment, refusing to believe his own ears. _Was that actual concern for him that he saw in her eyes or was it just fear of their current situation?_

"I don't think so," he said finally, shaking his head. "Last time I checked, you had no active powers. Besides, your sisters might need you."

Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, when, all of a sudden, a bullet broke through Cole's shield and whizzed harmlessly by them, burrowing itself into the wall behind them and making Hannah's mother shriek in fear.

"The shield is almost gone," Cole said urgently. "Hurry! Orb outside and have Yakov explain to you how to find Sweden. Meet me back here when you've made sure they are safe."

Not waiting for their response, Cole turned his attention back to the door. The shield was gone, and the door was about to give out as well, but he still needed to hold the Nazis off long enough for the Charmed Ones to get away.

"This should be fun," he squeezed through clenched teeth, as he made a pushing gesture with his hand, smiling with delight, when he heard the surprised and angry cursing on the other side of the door. Things became quiet for a moment – _"Probably trying to lift themselves off the floor,"_ he thought with a wicked sense of satisfaction – and Cole glanced briefly back into the room, noting with relief that the last of the orbs had dissipated. _"They are outside. Great. A couple more minutes, and they'll be out of here."_

He turned back toward the door, suddenly growing weary of the prolonged quiet on the other side. _"What are they doing over there?" _he wondered.

The answer came only seconds later in the form of an explosion that shook the already unstable building, and Cole was thrown violently across the room, landing hard amidst the falling cement rubble.

He bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming out loud, as a large piece of debris fell on his leg, crushing the bone underneath its weight. _"I guess the Elders didn't bother to give me back my healing power,"_ the ex-demon thought bitterly, closing his eyes against the pain.

Moments later, everything was quiet again, and the dust brought on by the explosion has slowly settled. Cole felt a movement around him, and he opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by uniformed men with guns trained on his body. He grunted, propping himself slowly up into a sitting position, as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I come in peace," he joked. "Sort of."

The men exchanged brief glances, then one of them barked a quick command, and the soldier standing closest to Cole nodded in compliance.

The last thing Cole saw was the butt of a rifle flying at his face … then everything went dark.

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**No healing powers -- ah, the first evil "twist" in the Elders' plot. More to come... Bwahaha!**

**Hope you liked the chapter. Please review :-)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Back with another (shorter) chapter. Hope you like it. Please read and review :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them.**

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**Chapter 7.**

"Why did you do this?" Leo Wyatt tore his gaze away from a small gaseous sphere that displayed the unsettling succession of events on Earth that were rapidly progressing from bad to worse.

"Do _what_ … exactly?" Kronus queried, his cold blue eyes carefully scanning the visage of the former Whitelighter.

"Why did you take away his healing powers?"

His brow arched in mock surprise, the Elder objected in the same imperturbable manner: "I took nothing away. I merely gave him back enough of his powers for the Omega spell to work." He paused, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. _His plan was truly exquisite. _"Neither his power to heal himself nor his ability to shimmer were necessary for this task, therefore, I chose not to burden him with them," he explained calmly, as if stating something that was entirely self-evident.

A deep frown creased Leo's forehead. _Suddenly this whole matter was beginning to seem wrong, terribly wrong._ "But you know the kinds of torture the Nazis inflicted on their prisoners. You can't possibly justify putting him through that," he tried again, his attempt to appeal to the Elder's senses growing weaker, as he saw the expression of utter indifference written across the latter's face.

Kronus shrugged coldly. "I have no sympathy for that demon, Elder Wyatt. Neither should you." He narrowed his eyes, making the former Whitelighter shift uncomfortably under his stare.

"What if he dies in their prison?" Leo protested feebly, trying to hold his ground. "Who would complete the spell then?"

A superior, self-satisfied smirk twisted the Elder's lips. "He won't die there," he said haughtily. "Not from their torture anyway."

A realization began to dawn on Leo. "You planned for this to happen … all along," he gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. "You set it up so that he would run into that Jewish family just as the Nazis were about to arrest them."

"Nobody forced him to try and rescue them," Kronus objected coolly.

"No … but you knew he would… Didn't you?" The disdainful silence of the other Elder only served to confirm his suspicions. "You did," he stated, horrified, "And you led him into that situation, knowing that he would be unable to defend himself, knowing that he would be captured…. Why?" And suddenly the answer was as clear as the sky on a perfectly cloudless morning. "Just so you could watch him be tortured before he completes his part in your little scheme?" Leo stopped, appalled by the sheer monstrosity of the idea.

Kronus cocked his head slightly to the left, the ice in his stare becoming almost palpable. "Is that sympathy I detect in your voice, Elder Wyatt?" he inquired in a dangerously low voice. "May I remind you that you voiced no objections when it was clearly stated that the demon will die once the spell is complete? Moreover, I believe, your own words to him were that he should have stayed dead in the first place." He took a small step in the direction of his younger colleague, his hands clasped calmly in front of his white robe. "Have your feelings on the subject suddenly changed?"

Leo sighed, casting his eyes downward. _"Have they?"_ _He wasn't even sure anymore. Cole was evil; he was a danger to the Charmed Ones; he was better off dead. Of those things Leo had been sure even as they brought Cole back to life. But then doubts started creeping in: Cole's willingness to help the side of Good, even though Leo could sense that he was aware of the possible consequences; his unselfishness in trying to protect that little girl's family…. Those things were enough to make him stop and wonder. And now this? Kronus's method seemed no better than the methods used by the side of Evil…._

"I don't know," he admitted finally, shaking his head, and added with a note of defiance in his voice: "I just don't think I like the moral implications of your approach to all of this."

A cold unkind smile played upon Elder Kronus's lips in response to this challenge. "Fortunately, Elder Wyatt," he seethed through half-clenched teeth, "you are not yet in the position to render judgments on the morality of my decisions. Perhaps, in another hundred years or so." Not bothering to wait for the other's response, Kronus turned around and walked away, leaving the pale and confused ex-Whitelighter in his wake.

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**TBC**

**Let me know what you think.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Next chapter. A longer one :) Reviews are welcome (wink, wink).**

**Disclaimer: As always -- don't own Charmed.**

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**Chapter 8.**

Awareness was slowly fighting its way back, piece by piece reclaiming its possession over his mind. And, just as warm and comfortable darkness was being pushed away, it was gradually replaced by an almost unbearable cold and a vicious headache that threatened to split his head in two.

Cole risked opening his eyes, regretting his decision almost instantly, as bright light that streamed down from the single naked bulb that hung from the low ceiling assaulted his senses, blinding him and increasing his headache almost exponentially. He winced, bringing his hand to his face, and was surprised when his fingers came across something warm and sticky. Puzzled, he pulled his hand away, somberly contemplating the crimson mass that covered them. _He was bleeding?_ Blinking slightly in confusion, he slowly looked around, taking in his dismal surroundings. He was lying on his back on an ice-cold cement floor in a small room without windows where the dark faceless walls themselves gave off a gloomy uncomfortable sense of impending doom. He tried to shift his position to get away from the insistent cold that chilled him to the very bones, but the careless movement sent an unexpectedly sharp wave of pain up his right leg, and he cried out involuntarily, his fingers digging forcefully into the palms of his hands, as he waited for the pain to subside. _He didn't think a broken leg could hurt so much._ He remembered now. He remembered everything – the explosion, the soldiers. _"Did the Charmed Ones manage to get away?"_ he wondered.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you are finally awake," a strange voice commented, and Cole turned his head slightly in the direction of the sound, straining to identify its source.

A dark figure separated itself from the shadow of the far wall and walked slowly yet deliberately toward him, its features gradually becoming bathed in the bright incandescent light that surrounded the prisoner.

Cole squinted at the man before him: tall, somewhat skinny, blond hair, blue eyes, a slightly square jaw line – a poster boy for Hitler's Aryan nation clad in a perfectly pressed Nazi officer's uniform. Realization hit him almost instantly – _It was Amadeus; it had to be._ He propped himself slowly up into a sitting position, mindful of his injured leg, keeping a careful eye on his opponent, as he tried to gauge the nature of his predicament.

The Nazi stopped a few steps away from Cole; his eyebrow raised slightly, the cold careful gaze of his pale blue eyes slowly traveling up and down the ex-demon, as if trying to determine something.

"What are you doing here?" he said finally.

It was Cole's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Don't you think I should be asking **you** that? I mean, **your** men brought me here…."

His opponent grinned, reminding Cole of a hungry hyena. "Nice," he acknowledged. "Very nice. Although, somehow I think you know that **this** was not what I was referring to."

"Well, if you wanted an answer to a specific question, why didn't you just ask it instead of having **me** guess the meaning?" Cole quipped, growing irritated by the fact that, because of his broken foot, he was forced to look up at his opponent.

"Touché," Amadeus nodded, taking a small step forward. Clasping his hands carefully behind his back, he cocked his head slightly, narrowing his eyes in concentration. "Very well," he continued slowly, "let me rephrase. You know who I am. Or, rather, **what** I am. Correct?" He nodded, responding to his own question. "Of course you do. Same way I know what **you** are." He shrugged indeterminately and added rather matter-of-factly, "Otherwise you'd already be dead." The pale blue eyes gleamed coldly. "So I repeat my question: What are you doing here **on my turf** fighting against **my** men … helping **JEWS**?"

The undisguised raw hatred and contempt with which he uttered the last word made Cole shudder inwardly, and he silently prayed that Hannah and her parents were able to get away. How he wished at that moment that he had even the slightest clue as to their fate. _Did his plan succeed? Were the Charmed Ones able to get that family to safety or were they captured as well? "No, they couldn't have been," _he responded to himself. _"If they had been captured, they would have been here with him."_ And then another troubling thought broke forth, unbidden. _"What if they had all been killed? What if—?"_ He took a deep shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves and not let his opponent see his unease. Resolutely, he decided to play the game (to play dumb, that is) till the end, or, at least, as far as the situation would let him.

"I didn't realize demons were partial to anti-Semitism," he responded coolly, trying to conceal the worry in his voice under a mask of indifference.

Amadeus gave another shrug. "I'm not," he conceded. "But my host is, and so are the humans running this country. And for the time being, it is in my best interest to be so as well."

"Your host?"

"Yes. A certain Hans Dunkelstrasse. Low-level officer with high ambitions. Suited my goals perfectly. I helped him rise to the top. He … or, rather, his appearance, helped me get here."

He raised his right hand, palm up, and Cole felt himself being jerked up into the air and then pushed backwards until his back slammed forcefully against the cold rough surface of the wall. The ex-demon winced from the impact, straining to free himself from the invisible grasp that was holding him hopelessly pinned in place. _In vain._ For all his efforts, he could not even lift a finger. The Nazi grinned derisively. "It's no use to struggle," he noted calmly. "You're only going to tire yourself out." He inched a bit closer toward his prisoner, his hand still outstretched, holding him in place. "Once again, demon, why are you here?"

"Sightseeing?" Cole offered, still struggling against a grasp that was growing tighter with each second, slowly choking him.

"Don't play with me," Amadeus warned tightly. "Like I said before, this is **my** turf, and I will not stand for anyone interfering with my plans."

"And what… are… those, …exactly?"

"Not of your concern, demon." The Nazi stepped closer yet, his hand almost touching the prisoner. "Who sent you here?"

"No… one," Cole rasped.

"You're lying!" the demon snapped angrily, tightening his hold.

His air supply nearly cut off, Cole felt himself slowly drowning in the sticky viscous darkness that began to envelop his mind. He was suffocating.

"A demon who, I assume, has no power to shimmer – otherwise, you would have been able to get away. A demon who stays behind to save humans. What kind of a demon **are** you? **Who** sent you?" Seeing that he wasn't responding, Amadeus pulled his hand away abruptly, letting the ex-demon out of his grip.

Cole dropped heavily down onto the floor, gasping, as the air rushed back into his lungs, trying to ignore the pain that ripped through his leg. His head spinning from the lack of oxygen, he tried to concentrate on what Amadeus was saying.

"The only ones who know that I am here are the Elders," the other demon mused, observing the crumpled form at his feet. "But you're a demon. They couldn't have sent you … unless…" a spark of comprehension flashed in his eyes, and he frowned disbelieving. "That's impossible," he whispered, responding to his own silent arguments, "they wouldn't dare…" _"Or would they?"_ Amadeus couldn't afford to take chances.

"For the last time, who sent you here?" he asked, urgency evident in his clipped voice. "Tell me now or—"

"Or what?" Cole managed finally in a hoarse whisper. "You'll squeeze me to death?"

A lopsided grin twisted Amadeus's features. "No," he shook his head. "I'll do better than that. I'll have my boys work on you a little instead." He walked to the door and shouted a quick command into the dimly lit hallway behind it. Then turning his head slightly just before stepping outside, he threw disdainfully over his shoulder: "Oh, and don't think about trying to use your powers on them. I've made sure they won't work for you here." He smiled gleefully and added, "I'll see you in an hour."

The door closed behind him only to reopen moments later to let in two soldiers armed with short thick batons. They crossed the room, stopping over the crumpled form on the floor, and Cole closed his eyes in anticipation of the torture he knew was to come.

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**TBC**

**How will Cole get out of this situation? What will happen next? Where are the Charmed Ones? And Leo?**

**Press that button and let me know what you think :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Next chapter. ****Usual disclaimer.**

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**Chapter 9.**

The day was already breaking by the time the Charmed Ones returned, reappearing in a swirl of blue lights in the middle of Hannah's former "apartment."

"What the hell happened here?" Piper gasped, frowning at the devastation around them.

Carefully choosing their steps amidst the rubble, the girls slowly made their way across the room, looking for any traces, any indication of what had transpired.

"I'll tell you what happened," Paige chimed in, an I-told-you-so look on her face. "That demon massacred everyone in here and took off, just as I said he would. Same thing he did to those soldiers that attacked Yakov, I bet. Here's blood to prove it." She pointed accusingly at a red stain that marked the dusty surface of a cement slab nearby. "The bastard was just waiting for us to leave, so he could—"

"No, Paige," Phoebe interrupted in a quiet but determined voice, having brushed her hand gingerly against the stained block, and stiffening involuntarily at the images that flooded her mind. She pulled her hand away, as if scalded. "You're wrong," she insisted.

"How do you know?"

"It was a premonition, wasn't it?" Piper guessed, stepping closer to her younger sister.

Phoebe nodded wordlessly, her eyes riveted to the bloodstain, as if strangely mesmerized by its sight.

"What did you see?" Piper prodded. "Whose blood is it?"

"It's Cole's," she responded after a moment of silence, and when she looked up, Piper could swear there was a look of fear in the hazel depths of her eyes.

"Cole's?" Paige frowned, uncomprehending. "I thought he was supposed to be invincible."

"He was also supposed to be a heartless soulless killer as Belthazor, Paige!" Phoebe objected a bit more harshly than either she or her sisters expected. "Soulless killers don't try to save Jewish families from the hands of the Nazis."

"We still can't be sure if—"

"If what, Paige?"

"If it wasn't all a trick," she stated, still standing her ground, but more hesitantly than before.

"A trick?" Phoebe nearly choked in indignation. "What kind of a tr-?"

"Girls, please!" Piper stepped in between her sisters, putting up her hands in a reconciliatory gesture. "We need to focus here." She turned her attention to Phoebe, her brows knit in concern. "What exactly did you see?" she repeated.

Throwing a final angry glare in the direction of the youngest sister, Phoebe relented and lowered her gaze. "There was an explosion of some kind," she began in a quieter voice, trying to reconstruct the sequence of images that flashed through her mind when her hand grazed the cement surface. "I think he may have been hurt in that. Or maybe it was later … he was hit … by a … rifle. And then I saw him being dragged away."

"Can you tell where?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No. I didn't see enough," she whispered with a note of desperation in her voice.

"Try again," Piper urged, pointing to the bloodstain.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Paige exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "You don't seriously believe this, do you, Piper? He is a demon, for crying out loud! How do you know this isn't one of his tricks?"

"Because it was a premonition, Paige," Piper responded quietly, her eyes never leaving Phoebe's face. "She received it for a reason."

"What- …are you saying, he's our innocent now?" the youngest sister rolled her eyes sarcastically, shoving her fists defiantly in her pockets. "This is insane!"

"This is an insane world," Piper mumbled, her voice barely audible. "If human beings can be ruthless killers, why can't a demon be…" she paused, watching as Phoebe reached out once again for the bloodstained slab of cement rubble, her hands shaking slightly from fear or nervousness, "…an innocent," she finished, her voice trailing off, as she waited for the middle sister's reaction.

She saw her tense as usual, when the images of the premonition overpowered her senses, but then Phoebe gasped suddenly and doubled over as in pain, her hand grasping the edge of the cement block, fingers digging into the rough surface. Concerned, Piper started in her direction, but, before she could reach her, Phoebe already broke contact with the slab, and stumbled back awkwardly, her face – a contorted mask of pain.

"We … we need to find him," she managed between short deep breaths; the image of Cole's bloodied form, helpless under the ruthless blows of a steel-tipped club, being all too vivid in her mind. "Soon."

The unusual reaction and the urgency in her voice alarmed the two other sisters, drawing them closer to Phoebe's side.

"What is it? What did you see?" Paige's voice now reflected the same worry that could be read in the eyes of the eldest sister.

"The future. Or, maybe, the present. I … I'm not sure." Phoebe wavered, as she looked from one worried face to the other, hoping against hope that it was, indeed, the future that she saw in the violent image of her premonition, the future that was as of yet preventable. Yet, somewhere in her heart she knew that whatever they did they were already too late. _But they, at least, had to try._ "He was in a room of some kind," she spoke hurriedly. "A dark room. … He was …" she broke off, her eyes expressing the horror that her mind refused to put into words.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie," Piper tried, placing her hand on Phoebe's shoulder, but the latter pulled back, shrugging her off.

"How is it going to be okay?" she cried out, despair mixing with anger in her voice. "We can't find him! I don't even know where to look!"

"Uhm," Paige, who, until now was watching the exchange between the two sisters with an expression of pure skepticism, chimed in, her look suddenly transformed into that of bewilderment, "I **think** I know." Shrugging her shoulders, as if to field off unanswerable questions she saw in the eyes of her sisters, she quickly added: "I don't know **how** I know, but … I think I can find him."

To Phoebe, however, at this point the "how" didn't matter, and before the youngest Charmed One even finished her sentence, Phoebe was already at her side, dragging Piper along with her. "Orb us there now," she commanded with the kind of urgency that left no room for negotiation. And, meeting Paige's mildly indignant stare, she amended, "Please, hurry!"

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Amadeus came back, as promised, having given his men exactly one hour to "work his prisoner over." As the two Nazi soldiers gave him a quick salute and exited the room, Amadeus gently shut the door behind them and walked slowly over to the bloodied form that lay crumpled on the cold floor. He stood over him silently for a few moments, contemplating the deep bleeding gashes and ugly bruises that showed through the hopelessly torn fabric of his shirt. Then, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he toed the prisoner roughly in the side, flipping him over onto his back, and watched with mild amusement as a grimace of pain distorted the ex-demon's features.

"Awake, I see," he remarked, a note of clear satisfaction coloring his voice. "My boys appear to have done a pretty good job on you." He bent down slightly, peering into the face of the prisoner. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Cole regarded his captor silently from behind semi-closed eyelids. _What was he saying? Talk? Huh! Even if he wanted to talk at that point, it seemed an impossible task. He doubted that he had the energy to move his lips, let alone utter a word._ _"Yes, those goons of his have certainly done a good job…,"_ he thought ruefully. The two soldiers must have really liked the task they were assigned to, for they took to it with rare enthusiasm, throwing all of their energy and force into every single blow they landed on his body. He tried to shield himself at first, but how can one protect oneself when the blows are delivered from every side imaginable? Boots, fists, clubs – they all mixed together, raining down on him without mercy, and after a while, he simply gave in, letting it happen without any resistance on his part. It was useless to resist. His powers were useless. And he was so tired…. He surrendered his body to pain, trying instead to shield his mind, trying to block out his tormentors, to think about something else … someplace else … someplace pleasant and safe where he once was … a long time ago. Strangely, it seemed to work, for, after a while, the pain appeared to have subsided, the blows became less sharp than before. _Or maybe it was simply that the soldiers have tired themselves out…_He couldn't tell for sure. He only knew that he was given a moment of respite, and he reveled in it. But, judging from the predatory expression he saw in the eyes of Amadeus, his rest was over.

"I have had a bit of time to think about it," Amadeus continued, without taking his eyes off the prisoner. "If the Elders have truly dared to do what I suspected – not that it would have ever worked – some unfortunate witch would have been sent along with you. However, I cannot sense a single witch for miles from around here. Not to mention the fact that nobody even attempted to rescue you for the past hour or so that you've been here. Which, of course, makes me think that you weren't sent by them." An already familiar hyena-like smirk twisted his lips, as he bent even lower above Cole. "Of course, knowing the Elders like I do, they may well have let you rot in here even if they did need your help," he taunted. "Am I right?"

"_Boy, you have no idea…,"_ Cole thought, suppressing a violent urge to verbalize the few dozen expletives directed at the white-robed beings that were running through his mind at this point. The Elders couldn't be trusted – he knew that from the start. They have proven that by robbing him of the two powers that could have helped him avoid capture. But he also knew another thing. He knew that they were pretty desperate to stop Amadeus – otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered to bring him, Cole, back. And if that was the case, then they will find some way to get him out of here … sooner or later. And maybe it was good that the Charmed Ones were staying away. At the very least, it was getting Amadeus off their tail and making him question the plausibility of the plan he was so uncomfortably close to figuring out. _All he needed was to hold on … just a little longer. Just a little longer…_

"Well?" the demon prodded. "What do you think about my conclusions? Am I right?"

"I think … you have a very … over..active …imagination," Cole managed, trying his best to look defiant despite the pitifulness of his position. And he was rewarded for his efforts: a self-satisfied grin disappeared off the face of his opponent, as the latter couldn't hold back a growl of frustration.

The uniform-clad demon waved his hand angrily, and Cole found himself flying through the air once again only to feel his back impact with the wall seconds later.

"It appears my men haven't convinced you enough!" he hissed, as he raised his hands slightly, palms upward. "Well, no matter. I can always finish the job."

Biting his lip to hold back a scream of pain, Cole watched helplessly as two athames appeared in the outstretched hands of the demon. _"Great," _he thought tiredly, _"just great."_ He closed his eyes, mentally readying himself for another painful experience. But, instead of the sound of a knife swooshing through the air in his direction, he heard a loud knock on the door, and he looked up, surprised by and grateful for the interruption.

The demon rolled his eyes in a gesture of extreme annoyance, shoved the athames behind the belt of his uniform, and walked briskly over to the metal door, opening it only wide enough so he alone could see the person behind it. Having exchanged a few brief words with the anonymous intruder, Amadeus shut the door angrily and turned back to his prisoner, glaring at him from across the room. He stood motionless for a few seconds, as if deciding on the best course of action. Finally, he took a couple of steps in Cole's direction and said coldly, "It appears, my presence is being requested elsewhere at this time. The boss needs some advice on how to handle Britain, so I will have to leave you for a little while." Calmly, he reached behind his belt, pulling out the two knifes and throwing them forward in one swift forceful motion. The deadly blades glistened dangerously in the air, and, before Cole could even blink, they plunged into his shoulders, tearing violently through the flesh and stopping only when they burrowed themselves firmly inside the wall behind him, pinning him cruelly in place.

The impact was so strong that for a brief moment Cole felt as though the entire room had caved in on him. He could see nothing but a red haze before his eyes; could hear nothing but the loud ringing in his ears. And then the moment passed, and the pain set in – sharp, merciless, excruciating. He gasped, feeling suddenly hopelessly out of breath.

Amadeus's words carried over to him strange and indistinct like through a deep fog: "Those should hold you up until I get back. Don't worry, I won't leave you **hanging** for too long."

The crude joke was lost on Cole, as was the exact moment at which Amadeus exited the room. The pain having become too unbearable for his already exhausted body, he mercifully slipped into the unconsciousness, surrendering to the warm, peaceful darkness of its embrace.

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**TBC**

**Thanks for reviewing! Keep it up :-)**


	11. Chapter 11

**New chapter... **

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** Chapter 10.**

The assembly hall was deserted save one white-robed figure that stood leaning against the smooth polished surface of a column in the center of the room, seemingly lost in thoughts. He didn't notice or didn't bother to notice one fuming Elder heading in his direction.

"What, in Heaven's name, do you think you're doing, Wyatt?" Kronus screamed, storming into the white stillness of the assembly hall, his eyes shooting daggers at the white-robed figure. "Who gave you the right to interfere?!"

Leo turned his head slowly toward the intruder without shifting his position. "I think I had no more or no less right to interfere than any of us did," he remarked coldly. "You were the one who disturbed the progression of events. You left me no choice."

Kronus nearly choked with indignation. "How dare you? You-"

"No!" Leo cut him off sharply, pushing himself away from the column and taking a semi-threatening step in the Elder's direction. "How dare **YOU**? You threw him into this situation without so much as a hint as to what awaits him in the end. And it wasn't enough for you that he agreed to do it, no questions asked; wasn't enough that he was going to sacrifice himself for our side – you had to TORTURE him first?" The former Whitelighter was shaking with anger. He had no idea that he could get so angry at another being – angry enough to actually want to strike him. The realization troubled him, and he took a deep calming breath, subconsciously tightening his fists. "You had planned for the Charmed Ones to find him eventually anyway, haven't you?" he pointed out, glaring at the suddenly silenced Elder. "At least, I'm **assuming** you did," he shrugged, "Otherwise, he would have died in prison, and the spell would have been incomplete. All I did was speed up the rescue." Leo crossed his hands on his chest, his look defiant, daring Kronus to challenge his decision.

Kronus, who until now was staring at his younger colleague open-mouthed, taken aback by such an unusual on Leo's part display of emotions, recovered from his initial shock and went on the offensive. His lips twisting into a disdainful smirk, he cocked his head slightly to one side and took the smallest step forward. "Sympathy for the demon?" he observed, his voice tinged with mock concern. "I'm worried about you, Wyatt. Don't you remember what happened the last time you sympathized with that fiend? I should think you would be very much in favor of ensuring that something like that doesn't happen again."

"It doesn't justify what you're doing," Leo objected.

"Doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't," a new voice asserted, and the two elders turned to look at the newcomer.

"Menelaus?" Kronus said hesitantly, confusion evident in his voice. "You are the last person I would ever suspect of supporting this idiocy."

Menelaus shrugged, glancing briefly at Leo, who eyed him suspiciously. "I was of the same opinion as you at first, Kronus," he acknowledged somberly. "But I find your methods to be … objectionable, to say the least."

"But you agreed to them!" Kronus protested.

"I did not," the Elder shook his head. "I agreed to use Cole Turner to neutralize Amadeus. I did NOT agree to have him subjected to unnecessary torture along the way." He knit his brows sternly, an authoritative calm creeping into his features. "I stand with Elder Wyatt on this one, Kronus. I think it is time for you to relinquish control over this mission. Effective immediately." Turning his head slightly, Menelaus once again caught Leo's gaze – a gaze that was much softer this time, and he smiled, as he saw the former Whitelighter's lips move softly, forming a silent "thank you".

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Silence; dark ominous silence enveloped the cold unwelcoming confines of the small room in the basement of the Reichstag. Its rough cement walls, permanently drenched in the blood of its former prisoners, were now a grim witness to the dying agony of yet another. That the man held within its confines was dying, the silent walls had no doubt. No one they have seen had endured such injuries and survived. As it was, this one hung on longer than any other before him. The walls could still sense the tiny flame of life flicker inside him, but they could feel it ever so slowly ebbing away. They could hear his slow heartbeat gently break the dead stillness of the room, and they wondered casually how long that soft intrusion on their quiet rest was going to last. _Couldn't be much longer now…_

Suddenly, a string of blue lights rained down from the ceiling rudely interrupting the semi-dark and morbidly peaceful atmosphere of the room, and the walls sighed in frustration, as the orbs materialized into three female figures.

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For a moment the room, where only the very center was brightly illuminated by a single naked bulb that hung from the low ceiling, seemed empty. The Charmed Ones looked around in confusion, trying to peer into the nearly impenetrable darkness that lay outside the lighted area.

"Cole?" Phoebe called out, as her eyes, having finally adjusted to the gloom, spotted a lone figure that seemed to be hovering above the floor by the opposite wall. _Something was wrong. He wasn't moving._

Cautiously, she moved toward the shadowed figure, while her youngest sister jumped up, carefully grabbing onto the wire and pushing it forward with all her might, making the bulb swing back and forth across the room, throwing its fickle light into the tiniest of corners.

Phoebe gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth, as the bulb swung in Cole's direction, illuminating for an instant the hopelessly bruised body that was held cruelly in place by two strong knives (_no, athames_, she corrected herself). Obeying a sudden impulse, she rushed forward, choosing to ignore for a moment the significance of those specific weapons, as she tugged on them with all her might, trying to free his unconscious body from their vicious grasp. _In vain_. Deeply imbedded in the cement fabric of the wall, the athames did not budge. In desperation she turned to her sisters, who were at her side within moments, adding their strengths to her efforts. But even the three of them could not seem to move the stubborn metal. And finally, as they pulled away, disheartened, Paige once again realized with a start that she, somehow, knew the solution. Not stopping to question the source of that unexpected knowledge, she stretched out her hands, calling out forcefully: "Athames!"

The trick worked, and Paige watched in amazement as the immovable daggers suddenly disappeared in a swirl of blue lights only to reappear in the palms of her outstretched hands seconds later.

Deprived so abruptly of the only support that held him upright, the ex-demon dropped heavily down onto the ground, his fall broken the very last second by Phoebe's hands.

Phoebe bit her lip to keep herself from screaming, as she finally saw the full extent of his injuries, saw his blood on her hands, as it poured unrestrained out of his deep wounds. She felt nauseated somehow, and she swallowed hard, pushing back an unpleasant lump that formed in her throat. _When did she become so concerned for his well-being once again? Only a day ago, it seems, she was distressed over the fact that he was brought back to live. And now…_

Shaking her head, she turned to the youngest sister, her eyes pleading with her to help. "Paige, please, heal him."

The latter frowned. _Something strange was definitely going on in here. She was certain that something or someone had planted in her mind the location where Cole was held along with the idea to use her powers to remove the athames. "But who?" She was more than a little curious to find that out, and the lack of that particular knowledge was making her uneasy. It was bad enough that they were thrown into this mess with the minimum of details, but now they were being manipulated by some unknown power on top of that? She didn't like that. She didn't like that one bit. But with all that distrust, one thing seemed certain to her at the moment – Cole had nothing to do with it. He couldn't have. _She looked at his crumpled form, so helpless in Phoebe's arms, and sighed in resignation. _Maybe her sisters were right about him … at least in this respect. But she'd be damned if she risked to trust him completely._

With another sigh she squatted down next to Phoebe and held her hands over the unconscious form in her arms. "I gotta tell you, I don't even know if this will work," she warned, throwing a disapproving glance at her sister.

Phoebe merely shook her head. "It has to," she whispered, unconsciously running her fingers down his bruised cheek.

Paige pursed her lips, her frown deepening, as a familiar yellow glow appeared under her palms, and Phoebe smiled in relief, as the scars and wounds that covered his body gradually began to heal over.

Moments later, she saw his eyelids flutter, and her smile widened. "Welcome back."

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**I know I've been kind of cruel to Cole lately... Here's a bit of a respite for him. Unfortunately, I can't promise that it will be a long one... but, hopefully, that won't keep you from enjoying the story. As always, though, please let me know your thoughts by hitting that little "Review" button :-)**


	12. Chapter 12

**This one turned out a bit on the angsty side. Well, you be the judge :)**

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**Chapter 11.**

She held him tightly, paying no attention to her surroundings, holding her breath almost subconsciously as she waited for him to regain consciousness. It felt almost as if at that moment her own life was tied to his so closely that she dared not move nor breathe until he came to, afraid somehow for the rise and fall of her chest to fall out of sync with his. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, as she perceived the tiniest of movements that announced his return to consciousness. But then, as his eyes opened finally, locking themselves onto hers almost instinctively, she felt herself stiffen involuntarily; a sudden apprehension sending a soft ripple through her body down to the very fingertips that dug into the tattered fabric that was once his shirt.

Cole blinked impatiently, waiting for the blurred image above him to come into focus, frowning in consternation as the familiar face finally came into view. _Phoebe?_ His thoughts scrambled in confusion. _What was she doing here? Was she captured as well?_ What confused him the most, though, was waking up like that in her arms; the light scent of her perfume flooding his senses; the soft glow of her dark brown eyes caressing him with their warmth. Oh how he had longed for this moment! How many sleepless nights he lay there haunted by this image of her gazing at him with eyes filled with love and concern instead of fear and hatred, of her hands holding him – an image he knew was lost forever in the short and hopelessly distant past they had together; an image that was no longer anything but a cruel illusion that invaded his nights to torment him. _Was this an illusion as well? No, she seemed real._ And then he felt it – a slight shiver of her soft fingertips against his exposed skin – an involuntary expression of unease. Yes, this Phoebe was real, and whatever expression of tenderness and concern he managed to catch in her eyes only a moment ago evaporated, replaced almost instantaneously by the same tenseness and apprehension he felt coursing through her body. The change was so rapid in fact that he wondered, almost despite himself, if what he saw earlier was just another illusion brought on by his as yet not fully conscious mind.

He shifted slightly in her arms, pushing these thoughts aside. _There was no reason to dwell on useless dreams._ Noticing the other two sisters standing around them, his thoughts returned to his earlier fears, and the sudden need to know pushed him to break the charged silence of the room.

"Wha… what are you doing here?" his voice sounded raspy even to his own ears, and he swallowed abruptly trying to relieve some of the dryness that threatened to choke him at his very next attempt to speak.

"Rescuing your sorry ass. What does it look like we're doing?" Paige, having regained some of her self-control, stood with her fists planted defiantly against her waistline, throwing as much contempt into her expression as she could muster at the moment.

"You're not captured then," he stated quietly, almost to himself, as he sighed in relief, ignoring her jab. Something else he remembered, and that new recollection chased away whatever fog of unconsciousness that still clouded his brain. "What about Hannah?" he inquired anxiously, as he struggled to get to his feet.

"She's safe. They are all safe," Phoebe's voice whispered above his ear, and he felt two pairs of hands gently support him from both sides, helping him to get up and steadying him, as he swayed slightly, his feet having grown a bit unaccustomed to supporting the weight of his body. Confused he glanced at the two older sisters at his sides, once again puzzled by this unusual expression of concern on their part. Suddenly uncomfortable, he slipped awkwardly but gently out of their grips, mumbling an embarrassed "thank you", as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"You're welcome," Piper responded with a slightly tense smile, moving straight to the business at hand. "Now we need to get **you** out of here."

But he shook his head, bringing frowns of confusion to the faces of the three witches. "We can't leave," he insisted, "not yet."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

Cole turned his gaze back to his ex-wife and responded simply, "**He**'s here."

A brief look of incomprehension fled from her eyes as they widened with sudden realization. "Amadeus?" she gasped.

He nodded.

"So **that's** where the athames came from." This was a confirmation not a question.

He nodded again, more hesitantly this time, as if he were reluctant to recollect that part of his experience. His hand rose up almost involuntarily to rub a spot where one of the athames had pierced his shoulder, and he winced as if the memory itself had brought back the pain the weapon had caused.

Paige's voice brought him back to the present. "Why did he not just kill you right away if he knew who you were?"

"He wanted information," Cole offered quietly, his gaze traveling over to Phoebe's face as he said the next phrase: "He suspected that I wasn't here alone, and he wanted to know whom I was working with." The tiniest frown of disappointment clouded his features, when he noticed the look of sudden apprehension in her eyes. He shook his head ruefully and added softly, responding to her silent question, "Don't worry. I didn't tell him anything."

Phoebe opened her mouth to object, but Cole interrupted her, raising his hand. "Can we table this discussion for now? I'd like to get out of this room before Amadeus gets back."

The sisters frowned in confusion, this sudden declaration taking them by surprise.

"Why would you want to leave?" Piper spoke up, voicing the question that was running through their minds. "What about the spell?"

"My powers are useless in this room," he explained coolly. "Amadeus put a spell of his own on it. So if you want **your spell** to work, we better find some other room in this building and summon him there."

He waited impatiently, while they absorbed the information, knowing that a new barrage of questions was about to come. And he was not mistaken.

"If this room has a spell on it, how come we were able to use **our** magic?" Paige inquired suspiciously, taking a hesitant step in the direction of her former brother-in-law. "How come I was able to heal your sorry ass? And if you were so powerless, how were you able to get inside my head and project to me your location?"

Cole grinned disdainfully, once again ignoring her attempt to provoke him. Paige was nothing if not predictable and, after a while, her jabs became no more upsetting to him than the stings of an annoying gadfly. "I believe that at the time he cast his spell, Amadeus was more concerned with binding **my** powers," he deadpanned. "The Charmed Ones didn't exactly enter into his thinking. And I can't complain, really, for, thanks to that, you were able to, as you so colorfully put it, 'heal my sorry ass.' As for me getting inside your head... **My dear, **even if I could I wouldn't touch **that** or any other part of your anatomy if my life depended on it."

The youngest sister bit back a snide comment, choosing instead to express her contempt via the good old eye-roll, but Cole already turned away from her, heading demonstratively toward the door.

Phoebe's shaky voice stopped him short. "Is that why you weren't able to shimmer out bef-fore they captured you? Or … heal yourself?" she asked hesitantly, noticing him stiffen at her words.

He paused a moment before responding, the feelings of resentment and anger against the Elders rising up in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. His back still turned toward the sisters; his fists clenched tightly at his sides, the ex-demon retorted sharply, "You'd have to ask your bosses about that one."

And before the Charmed Ones had a chance to say anything else, he left the room, letting the door slam shut behind him, leaving the three sisters in his wake, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide in horror at the sudden realization.

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**TBC**

**As always, thanks for reviewing!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ne-eext chapter. Thank you, guys, so much for reviewing:)**

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**Chapter 12.**

They found him a few minutes later standing in the middle of an empty room – almost an exact replica of the one where he'd been held prisoner a little while ago. He stood perfectly still, as if frozen in time, his head bent down slightly, eyes riveted to some random spot on the floor; so lost in thought that he seemed not to have noticed their arrival.

Silently they stepped inside, Piper shutting the door gently behind them, as if afraid to break the tense quiet of that cold cramped space. Motionless they remained by the far wall, regarding him with a mixture of fearful uncertainty and awe.

"Are you ready?" he asked suddenly, his soft voice shattering the overwhelming silence and startling them.

"We have the spell," Paige stepped forward, trying to hide her unease. "Which means we've got **our** part covered. What about you?" she challenged.

Cole looked up for the first time then, his face partially hidden in the shadow that the feeble light of the ceiling bulb was unable to disperse. The impenetrable dark-gray (almost black) shade concealing his features gave his appearance a slightly ominous and even threatening look.

"My part will be to end this," he stated curtly, the finality of the statement weighing heavily in the charged atmosphere of the room.

"H-how?" Piper asked hesitantly, doubts aroused by the recent events and Cole's bitter remark about the Elders a few moments ago making her suddenly apprehensive about the undisclosed aspects of this mission. "Leo never really told us this. How **are** you supposed to do it?"

Cole took a small step toward her, his face finally coming into the light, and she recoiled involuntarily, surprised by the intensity of his stare. "They did not give **me** any more details than they gave you," he said, making it quite clear by an almost venomous tint in his voice which "they" he was referring to. "All I **do** know is that they did not bring me back out of sheer philanthropy. Their actions have proven that." Cole shut his eyes momentarily and took a small steadying breath. When he looked up again, the blue eyes that met Piper's seemed suddenly very tired and painfully sad. "Look," he continued quietly, "whatever is my part in this, you can be sure I'll play it to the end, no matter what." "It's not like I have anything to lose," he added, a bitter smile twisting his lips, and then shook his head, as if trying to cast aside some unwelcome thoughts. "We don't have a whole lot of time. Let's just get this over with, okay."

He was in no mood to prolong this conversation. Even though, in the course of it, the information the Charmed Ones were discovering was working in his favor. Even though the looks on the girls' faces expressed something he never though he'd see again – a willingness, though admittedly hesitant, to trust. It no longer made any difference. He knew in his heart that it wouldn't last. It never did.

Maybe a few months ago, when he hadn't yet exhausted all of his mental and physical resources on trying to defend himself from their suspicions and accusations, when he hadn't yet grown disillusioned with the idea of redeeming himself in Phoebe's eyes, when he still held a sliver of hope that at least some of the love she had once felt for him could be salvaged, maybe **then** he could have insisted upon continuing this chat. But now he was tired. He was tired and he didn't care. He just wanted to get this day over with, to get away and to never have to deal with the Charmed Ones or the Elders, or anybody else for that matter ever again.

He closed his eyes, concentrating. It wasn't easy locating Amadeus amidst as much evil (human evil) as he found congregated between the walls of the Reichstag. _"__What would the Charmed Ones think if they could feel even a fraction of what he felt at this moment, if they could hear the thoughts of their so-called __**innocents**__?"_ he wondered briefly. _"__Thank God, at least some of those monsters were stopped."_ Finally his internal radar came upon a giant cloud of pure blackness, and he broke off his connection, shuddering almost involuntarily as he felt the demon's sensors graze his mind with their cold tentacles.

Cole's eyes flew open, their piercing gaze meeting the worried ones of the three sisters. "He'll be here in a second," he stated simply. "Get ready."

No sooner had these words left his mouth, when a dark cloud appeared in the center of the room, and began changing rapidly, morphing into an image of a square-jawed Nazi officer.

"Well, well, well," Amadeus noted, taking in the occupants of the room. "I did wonder briefly how you were able to shake off my spell when I sensed you searching for me, but I see now that you had a little help." He squinted disdainfully at the three sisters. "However, I really didn't think you'd stoop so low as to seek help from the witches."

"Any means is good if it helps wipe you out of existence," Cole quipped, his fists tightening almost involuntarily, as he fought the urge to slam his fist into that grinning mug. _"__This wasn't the way."_

"If you are planning to do what I think you're about to do then I won't be the only one who gets 'wiped out of existence', as you so eloquently put it," Amadeus retorted, his small penetrating eyes boring into the ex-demon. "You do realize that, don't you?"

"What is he talking about, Cole?" Phoebe's voice was tense, worried.

But he ignored the question. He didn't even turn to face her.

"Yes," he said calmly, responding to Amadeus' question. "Yes, I do."

Something elusive flashed in the dark eyes of the uniformed demon and his grin widened. "You won't go through with it," he stated with the kind of certainty that made his adversary frown in consternation. "No one as far as I can remember – and, believe me, I've been around much longer than any of you – **no one** was ever crazy enough to complete this spell. It was never considered to be worth the price. And I'll bet you're no different, my friend."

A momentary pause followed the demon's tirade, while Cole regarded him silently as if hesitating before his next move. _If the price was what he thought it was, was it really worth it?_ _Did he really have to go through with this?_ … The answer came back almost instantaneously, squashing the surfacing doubts. -- _Yes, he did._

"You'd be betting wrong, **friend**," he returned in a quiet voice tinged with dull hatred.

He took a small step backwards and, tearing his gaze away from the demon, nodded curtly to the Charmed Ones: "NOW!"

Phoebe, jolted by his shout, reached out, grabbing her sisters' hands, and the three of them began chanting frantically, their eyes glued to the new demon before them:

_Powers of the ancient times_

_Come with us your force combine_

_Help us raise a circle firm_

_To bind this evil from doing harm_

A cloud of golden smoke rose up from the gray concrete of the floor, and it began to thicken slowly, swirling at a maddening speed around the demon, until it turned from vaporous into a seemingly solid ring of translucent gold that encircled the fiend.

Amadeus roared in anger, and the deafening sound of his cry shook it seemed the very foundation of the hostile building, making the girls shrink back almost instinctively, gripping each other's hands even tighter.

Cole stood unmoving, unsure as yet what it was exactly that he was supposed to do. The spell seemed to be working without his interference. The circle appeared solid enough and complete enough. How was he supposed to complete it? What was he supposed to do? _"__Damn those Elders with their lack of instruction!"_

Suddenly, as if interpreting Cole's hesitation as a sign of weakness and doubt that he so hoped to see, Amadeus smiled in relief and raised his hands slowly, turning his palms outward at the glimmering wall that surrounded him. A blinding flash of bright red light shot out from the palms of his hands and slammed into the golden circle, and to the astonishment and horror of the Charmed Ones, the walls of the circle began to give way. They trembled and began to fade under pressure, while the red beam seemed to only grow stronger, as if drawing its very power from the dying ring. A few more seconds and the circle would disappear completely, the sisters realized. They could already see a small hole forming in the wall where the beam was directed. They could see the demon's triumphant smile, a smile that did not bode well for any of them. _The spell did not work…_ Phoebe felt her sisters edge closer toward the far wall, and she moved along with them, until the rough cement surface halted her progress. _End of the line? _They stood with their backs pressed against the wall with no place to run or to hide, watching with an ever-growing horror as the world's most dangerous demon was tearing his way out of a trap that they set for him. Glancing at her younger sister, Phoebe read in her eyes the same thoughts that she had been trying hard to suppress – _"_ _The spell didn't work, and Cole betrayed them, just as they thought he would."_

"I'd hate to say 'I told you so' in a situation like that," Paige began in a voice tight with worry, "but you have to adm-"

"Wait. Look!" Piper interrupted suddenly, tugging on Phoebe's sleeve to direct her attention back to the center of the room.

Phoebe turned just in time to see Cole take a firm step forward and right into the broken middle of the crumbling wall.

"What is he doing?" she whispered apprehensively, as she watched him slowly spread his hands apart until his fingers dug deeply into the pale-gold substance of the ring.

"I think …," Piper ventured hesitantly, "The spell… I think he's completing it…."

"The circle!" Phoebe realized with a start, her earlier doubts forgotten. _"__That's what the Elders meant by completing the spell. He was supposed to physically—g" _

The scene before her began to change abruptly, interrupting her train of though, and her eyes widened in horror. "COLE!"

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**TBC**

**I know, I know -- evil cliffhanger. I'll try to get the next chapter out soon. In the meantime, please review :-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter came out a bit short, but I couldn't squeeze anything else in there -- otherwise it would have been anti-climatic. Hope you like it.**

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**Chapter 13.**

"What are you doing?! Are you insane?" Amadeus threw up his hands in agitation, unwittingly terminating the beam of energy that succeeded in drilling a nearly foot-wide breach inside his temporary prison. "You're gonna kill us both!"

Cole didn't respond right away. Standing with his feet planted squarely in the middle of the ruptured wall of the circle, he seemed captivated by the soft fading glow that surrounded him. It seemed to gradually grow brighter somehow, pulsating with an entrancing intensity, its broken edges slowly pulling themselves closer in his direction. _It's being drawn to my power_, Cole realized. And he understood that very second how it was that this spell had to be completed, and for the briefest of moments a ripple of fear brushed against his heart. But only for a moment. _He wasn't going to give the Charmed Ones or the Elders the satisfaction of seeing him quit. And he wasn't going to let Amadeus leave this room alive. Lives of too many people depended on it. Hannah's life depended on it. … He was ready._

He looked up, a chillingly calm smile descending upon his features as he met the anxious gaze of the demon, and replied evenly: "That appears to be the idea."

He spread his hands out slowly, until his fingers reached the advancing edges of the ring. He felt a gentle tingle, as the walls of light gradually moved in on him, enveloping his body in a pale-gold veil of pure energy. And as the walls closed in on him completely, a violent spasm ripped through his body. His breath nearly cut off by the intense pain, he bit savagely into his lower lip to keep himself from screaming out loud, as the long tentacles of light – no longer gentle but sharp as knives – bored into him mercilessly from all sides, drawing out all his power, like a vampire sucking out the blood of its victim.

A sudden increase in the level of pain made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes briefly, confused by the strange sense of familiarity, of having experience this particular pain before. Moments later he felt something warm and sticky trickle down his chest, and he forced his eyes to open, puzzled to see blood from two shoulder wounds soaking the front of his shirt. _"__Wounds from the athames._ _No wonder the pain felt familiar_._"_ He suddenly understood: whatever power Paige transferred into him to heal his wounds was being sucked out as well. His gaze traveled further downward, noting in dismay the gradually reappearing cuts and bruises left by the two Nazi soldiers, each new trace accompanied by the pain of its original blow. His right leg came into view, still intact, and Cole cringed involuntarily, remembering the crushing force with which a piece of concrete landed on it. _This is gonna hurt. _He tried to steel himself for what was to come, but his weakening body was unprepared to handle the agony of the pain. His world darkened momentarily, and he would certainly have fallen down if it were not for the iron grip of the circle that kept him upright.

"COLE!" came Phoebe's terrified cry.

"_Cole!" it echoed weakly in his mind. _

_Somebody was calling his name._ Grasping at the fleeting strands of consciousness, Cole tried to place the voice in his memory. _Who was it? _He saw a little boy running through a dark corridor, looking over his shoulder in fear; a menacing black creature following him in relentless pursuit. _Somebody was calling him._ He saw the little boy again, held protectively in a gentle embrace of an older man. The boy's face wet with tears; the man kissing him softly in his tousled hair, speaking in a low calming voice: _"It's okay, Cole. It was just a bad dream. I'm here now. You're okay."_

"Dad?" The image disappeared, throwing his mind and body back into the realm of pain.

The walls of the circle grew brighter, stronger, pulsating with renewed energy that it was draining from the ex-demon trapped within their deadly embrace. Soon the light became painfully blinding, its intensity almost unbearable. Suspended within the viselike grip of the circle, barely conscious, Cole watched as millions of golden rays shot out from its walls toward the center, where the demon stood cowering in abject fear. _Yes, fear._ For the first time Cole saw real panic in the eyes of his adversary, and a small shadow of satisfaction descended upon his pain-stricken features. _His torturer was paid in full._

Amadeus screamed in agony – a shrill pathetic wail, as the bright light pierced his body from all directions, lifting him slightly off the ground. Through the thickening fog of unconsciousness that clouded his vision, Cole saw the demon's body tense impossibly in the mid-air, as the rays of light bored harder and harder into him, until finally bursting through in an intensely bright flash.

The demon was gone. Only a thin cloud of smoke remained behind as a brief reminder of his existence, but even that dissipated within seconds. And the circle, its task now complete, vanished as well, brusquely releasing its already lifeless prisoner, who dropped heavily onto the ground, no longer aware of the Charmed Ones as they rushed to his side, nor of Phoebe's screams, nor of the insistent threatening pounding coming from outside the room – no longer aware of anything.

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**Before you start screaming at me, it is TBC :-) But do feel free to review and let me know what you think (wink, wink)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N I know, it's been a while since I updated. Had a bit of a writer's block, I admit :) Hopefully, now things will go a bit smoother. I hope you like this installment.**

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**Disclaimer: Don't own Charmed**

**Chapter 14.**

Standing in the dead center of his dimly lit room, elder Menelaus stared pensively at the flickering light of the candle placed on the bare floor before him, its wax dripping slowly onto the cold white surface. What he was about to do went against every rule that their council had upheld so rigidly over the centuries… yet, it seemed … right … somehow. Menelaus shook his head, a deep frown creasing his forehead, as he once again recounted in his mind the arguments he had made to himself over the past few hours.

_Yes, it was the right thing to do. And **this** was the only way._ Letting out a heavy sigh, the Elder slowly raised his hands, lifting the hood of his white robe and placing it carefully on his head, his fingers hesitating briefly before releasing the soft fabric. Clasping his hands before him in a praying gesture, he lowered his head slightly, letting the hood slide forward, concealing his face. His lips moved silently, reciting an old and long-forgotten spell, and, suddenly, a glowing orb appeared suspended in the air before him. Menelaus dropped his head even further, his chant growing louder and louder, as the orb began to spin rapidly in place, its contours obscured momentarily by a cloud of white smoke. As the smoke dissipated, revealing a tall blue-eyed woman with long white hair that fell in thick waves around her sloping shoulders.

Menelaus stopped his chanting, his gray eyes watching the newcomer from the safety of the shadow provided by the hood of his cloak, while he waited for her to speak.

The woman looked around slowly, pursing her lips with displeasure, a look of disgust twisting her delicate features.

"Why have you called me here, Elder?" she asked finally, putting all of her displeasure into the disdainful manner with which emphasized the last word.

"I needed to speak with you," Menelaus responded calmly, tilting his head as if to get a better look at his new companion.

"Really?" Disdain in the woman's voice turned to scorn. "And what, may I ask, was so important that you'd risk bringing one of **us** here?"

The Elder frowned in concern, trying to push back the unpleasant jolt of apprehension he felt at an unkind note in her voice. _"Was this really a good idea?"_

"Look…," he began once more after a short pause, "I understand that you do not like to be disturbed, and I realize the repercussions that may follow my actions, but…," he paused again, as if trying to summon up the courage, "I thought that the matter warranted your intervention," he finished in one breath.

Her thin brow rose questioningly, a scornful expression never leaving the beautiful but strikingly pale face. "Sounds very grave," she taunted but nodded slightly, inviting him to continue.

"I am talking about the incident with the demon Amadeus," the Elder went on, watching her with a bit of weariness. "You are aware that the Omega spell was used successfully for the first time in many centuries, and—"

The woman waved her hand, silencing him. "Get to the point. I don't have all day."

Menelaus nodded respectfully. _There was no sense in irritating her even further. He was apprehensive enough about her reaction to what he had to say next._

The Elder took a deep breath before continuing. "I was hoping you would reconsider the fate of the demon that was responsible for completing the spell."

Dark blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, burrowing into the being before her. Menelaus shrunk back involuntarily under the scrutiny of her stare, watching intently for any change in her demeanor. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the woman's gaze softened and her tense expression had, suddenly, much to the Elder's great surprise, changed into a smile of astonishment. "I don't believe it!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, "An Elder with a conscience?"

Menelaus kept his silence, waiting for her decision.

"Very well," she nodded at last, pushing back an errant strand of snow white hair. "I will talk this over with my sisters. We'll let you know of our decision." Without another word she waved her hand in front of her face and disappeared in a thin puff of smoke, leaving behind a rather concerned and apprehensive Elder.

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Tearing her hand out of Paige's hold, Phoebe shot forward as soon as she saw Cole fall to the ground.

"Phoebe wait!" but she didn't listen. With Piper following closely behind her, she ran toward the middle of the room, dropping to her knees by his limp form. Up close he looked even worse, and Phoebe couldn't suppress an alarmed gasp upon seeing the extent of his injuries and the deathly pallor of his face. Lifting his upper body gently off the floor, she eased it onto her lap, turning pleadingly toward her younger sister.

"Paige, please…"

Hanging back slightly, the youngest Charmed One shook her head hesitantly. "I don't…"

"Paige, get your ass over here and heal him!" Piper snapped, her eyes flaring up with a sudden anger that surprised even herself. "There isn't time to play games right now."

Paige swallowed hard, frowning at her sister's unusual reaction. _She has never snapped at her like that before. And for whom? For a demon?_ Shaking her head disapprovingly, she pointed at the door behind which the insistent pounding noises mixed with German curse words were growing louder by the second.

"What about them?"

"Never mind them. We'll deal with them later."

"But they have guns," Paige protested.

"And we have the Power of Three, in case you've forgotten," Piper retorted, her tone leaving no room for further objections.

Paige relented. Without another word, she walked over to her sisters and sat down next to Phoebe, placing her hands over the lifeless body in her hands.

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked after a while, as nothing seemed to change in Cole's appearance.

"I'm not sure," Paige mumbled uncertain. "It doesn't seem to be working."

"Well why not?"

"Because a Whitelighter's powers are useless in his case, Phoebe," a familiar voice answered, and the girls spun around to face the newcomer.

"Leo?" They had been so concentrated on Cole, that they did not notice the silent arrival of the former Whitelighter.

"No," Phoebe shook her head violently, her hands unconsciously tightening around Cole's body. "When we first found him, he had all the same injuries, and Paige was able to heal him then."

"It's not about his injuries," Leo amended, as something close to regret flashed across his features. "The spell…."

"What about the spell?" Piper intervened, her brows furrowed in annoyance. "What exactly did it do to him?"

Her husband let out a small sigh. He knew the explanation would not be taken well. _Hell, it bothered him, and he was the one who agreed to this whole thing in the first place._ Steeling himself to face his wife's rightful indignation, he opted for the brutal truth.

"The spell needed two extremely powerful sources of energy to make it work: one to activate it, and the other (from the opposite side) to ensure its completion. On the side of good the combined power of the three of you is the strongest source of energy we have; on the side of evil the only creature capable of handling so much power was Cole."

"So you resurrected him. You've told us this before," Piper interrupted impatiently. "What are you NOT telling us?"

_Here it goes…_ "That, while to be activated, the Omega circle only needs a small but powerful jumpstart, if you will, in order for it to be completed, it has to draw out **all** of the energy from the second source… all of it… to the very last drop."

"Draw out? What, you mean like it sucked the life out of him? Literally?" Paige spoke up, her attempt to lighten the situation failing miserably.

Leo nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Piper interrupted him, her voice shaking with barely concealed anger.

"You mean this spell was intended to kill him, and you and your white-cloaked friends up there knew about it and you didn't tell us anything? Did you at least tell **him**?" Her husband's awkward silence was her answer. "You didn't, did you. You just threw him into this without even telling him what it would cost him in the end." She shook her head in horrified disbelief.

"He knew," Leo offered weakly, lowering his gaze. "I think he knew."

"Yes he did," Piper nodded, remembering suddenly something Cole mentioned earlier. "He also knew that you messed with his powers to get him captured and tortured by the Nazis." When she said it, Piper was not at all certain that her assumptions were correct, but seeing the pained look in her husband's eyes, she knew to her horror that she was right about that as well. "Oh my God…. You … you're a monster," she mumbled, stepping back to her younger sister who sat frozen in shock, her hands still wrapped tightly around Cole's motionless form.

"In all fairness, my dear, your husband was actually the one who tried to stop that unfortunate thing from happening," a new voice interjected, and the girls started, as another hooded figure materialized in the center of the room next to the small crowd.

"Menelaus?" Leo exclaimed, staring at his unexpected defender, his brow creased in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here unofficially, so to speak," the Elder smiled mysteriously, pulling back his hood. "Elder Wyatt, why don't you take the sisters home?"

"But what about--," Leo began, pointing questioningly at the Cole's body.

"I'll take care of it," Menelaus deadpanned, turning away from the former Whitelighter, effectively putting an end to their conversation.

Left with no other choice but to follow his superior's instructions, Leo shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of helpless surrender and turned to the Charmed Ones: "Shall we get out of this place?"

"Not till someone explains to us what's going on," Piper objected, planting her fists on her fists in a gesture of defiance.

Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Menelaus pointed behind his back where the pounding noises coming from outside the door were becoming almost deafening. "Wouldn't you want to continue this conversation in a somewhat calmer atmosphere?"

But Piper merely waved her hand at the door, freezing the would-be intruders, "There. All's calm now. Now talk!"

"What the hell did you do with Cole? What is going to happen to him?" Phoebe exclaimed, her eyes blazing dangerously, as she stepped closer to the Elder.

Menelaus didn't even bat an eye; a soft grin touched his lips, as he responded calmly, "His fate is no longer of your concern."

"And just what in hell is that supposed to mean?" Phoebe pushed on, nearly choking with indignation at such a condescending response. "How dare you? You and your … white-hooded friends threw us all into this mess without even telling us anything; you pushed this mission on Cole without giving him any idea of what it would cost him. And now you're telling us it's not our concern? You… you … murderer!" Overwrought with worry for Cole and tension and confusion of the past few hours, Phoebe didn't even notice the dangerous gleam that flashed in the eyes of the cloaked messenger during her tirade. Only suddenly she found herself flying swiftly through the air, and she shrieked as she plopped down rather ungracefully next to the opposite wall.

"Watch that mouth of yours, young lady, if you don't wish me to seal it closed," Menelaus said sharply and then added in a more subdued and quiet voice, "We have done things that I am not proud of, I admit. But before you start throwing such big words around, perhaps you should rethink your own role in all this, so you don't end up breaking that glass house of yours."

"What are you talking about?" Paige stepped in, while her sister clumsily scrambled to her feet, trying to regain some of her lost dignity. "What role? What do we have to do with any of this?"

The Elder tilted his head slightly to the right, his intense gaze shifting toward the youngest witch. _"She's still too full of anger," _he thought regretfully, as he studied her indignant expression. _"She does not wish to see." _He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, and spoke quietly, responding to Paige's question: "Lots of things. But mainly for failing him when he needed you the most." He paused, meeting Phoebe's concerned stare, and his last few words seemed to be directed solely at her: "Because of that you have lost an Innocent … three times."

He reached deep into the fold of his robe, and, as he pulled out his hand and opened it up, there was a tiny blue cube sitting in the center of his palm. "Here," he said, tossing it carefully in Phoebe's direction.

"What is it?" the middle sister asked, watching the new object with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

"A memory chip," Menelaus explained. "It contains every conscious memory and sensation that a person ever had. Because the information they contain is so sensitive, their use isn't encouraged. However, I believed that, in your case, a definite benefit could be obtained: it could certainly answer some questions for you and maybe even get you to think differently about some of your actions in the future. And judging by what I've seen so far, you could really use it."

"Is this Cole's?…" Piper began hesitantly, drawing her hand closer to the glowing cube in her sister's hand.

"It is," Menelaus nodded gravely and added, anticipating her next question, "Leo can show you how to use it… **after** he takes you home."

"But … what about Cole?" Phoebe asked in a much more subdued manner, as the Elder turned to leave. "Is he--"

A light frown crossed the Elder's features. "As I said before, his fate is no longer of your concern," he cut her off coldly. "You cannot change anything anymore. You have been given plenty of chances, and you have wasted all of them." His gaze softened somewhat, upon noticing her discomfort, and he added enigmatically: "But, who knows, perhaps someday you will have a chance to mend some broken bridges." He nodded curtly, "Good day," and with that disappeared in a soft cascade of white.

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**So... what do you think? Hit that review button and let me know :-)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Well, it really has been a while since I updated. I am extremely grateful to all of you who have been reviewing and who are still interested in reading this story. I hope I won't disappoint you with this chapter.**

**A/N2 I've decided to throw in some mythology in this chapter. So, just to make sure that everyone understands what is going on, here is some info on the new characters. The Moirae (also known as the three Fates) are named Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos (in Greek mythology, at least). They controlled the thread of life of all the humans (and also all the immortals). Clotho spun the thread of life of any given creature, Lachesis measured how long that thread was going to be, and Atropos cut it (thus selecting the moment of the creature's death). They did not answer to any higher power and were feared even by the gods.**

**I may have taken some liberties with these characters, but hopefully not so much as to offend any of the mythology buffs out there :)**

**Enjoy**

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**Chapter 15.**

The normally grave and somber atmosphere of the assembly hall resembled a giant bee nest stirred up by some unfortunate honey-hungry bear. The honorable members of the council paced around nervously, some wringing their hands in despair, others all but screaming at one another, gesticulating wildly in support of their verbal statements -- their arms coming within mere inches of their colleagues' noses; others still, also visibly upset, maneuvering awkwardly to escape their more boisterous colleagues. Seemingly having forgotten about their dignified positions, they acted like typical mortals who have just come to realize that their actions have landed them in deep trouble with no apparent way of getting out of it.

Only elder Menelaus stood quietly outside the madly buzzing circle, leaning calmly against a white pillar. An enigmatic smile played on his lips, as he watched the mayhem before him, his arms crossed peacefully on his chest.

Brief patches of conversation carried over to him, and the mysterious smile grew even deeper as a response. "The Moirae called the meeting of the council... The Moirae are coming here... The Moirae... Moirae..." He found this nervous commotion rather amusing, even though, he had to admit, he felt pretty nervous himself several days ago when Moira Lachesis appeared in his room. He was almost certain that this unsanctioned meeting would end rather … badly for him. _Yet, he was still here… AND there was a possibility (though a slight one) that the Moirae would grant his plea… But, even if the Moirae's reply were to be negative, still there was some good that came from this whole ordeal with Amadeus. The memory chip. The Charmed Ones have finally found the courage to view it._ Menelaus remembered "peeking in" on them a day after he gave them the chip. _They were hesitant to even touch it at first. So hesitant… But then curiosity won out, as he hoped it would. _He remembered their faces – so distrustful at first, so full of shock, pain and disbelief later when the chip finished playing… _They sat in stunned silence for what seemed like hours. The middle one, Phoebe, was crying. The eldest, Piper, a haunted look on her pale face, was rubbing her sister's back quietly, trying to console her. The youngest sister, the one he had most doubts about, was pacing nervously back and forth in front of the others, unconsciously chewing on her lower lip._ Yes, the memories touched her too, he could see it. _Even the former (yes, former) elder Wyatt… He, too, was curious enough to stay and watch along with the Charmed Ones. He didn't say anything either after it was all over. Just watched the girls in silence for a few minutes and then orbed out of the Manor._ _Menelaus saw him later that day, and Leo threw it in his face that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with the Elders or magic for that matter. He was through, he said. Couldn't bear to keep fighting on the side that claimed to be good and in reality caused so much evil._ _Yes, Menelaus could definitely see his point. Heck, he had these thoughts himself … more than once. But the side of Good still had to be defended… even if sometimes it erred in its ways. That's what Menelaus told him. Tried to convince him to stay on -- all in vain. Leo was adamant about shedding his white robes for good (pun intended). _Menelaus shook his head at the memory. _Well, at least they were able to compromise. He managed to convince his fuming colleague that his work for the side of Good was too valuable and that the Charmed sisters still needed his guidance. So if he did not wish to keep his new job, he could, at least, go back to his old one. After a long and rather heated argument Leo agreed. And thus, the former Whitelighter-turned-Elder became former Elder-turned-Whitelighter. _Menelaus chuckled softly to himself. _"Yes, another interesting twist of fate..."_

"You know something about all of this, don't you?" the question sounded sharply above his ear, tearing him away from his thoughts.

It took Menelaus a few seconds to realize that the question was directed to him. He turned, finding himself face to face with a balding round-faced elder.

"Arturo," he acknowledged slowly, his smile fading.

"Are you responsible for all this?" elder Arturo repeated, pointing at the agitated group behind him.

Menelaus considered him a moment. "Even if that were true, it no longer makes any difference now, does it? The Moirae are still coming." He enjoyed a brief flash of satisfaction upon seeing Arturo squirm at the mention of their soon-to-be guests. _He is afraid too. They all are. No one has any idea what this is all about. And even Menelaus himself was a bit anxious about the Moirae coming here. After all, they could have easily granted his request without informing anyone. They had the power for it. Why then did they decide to convene this meeting with the Elders the likes of which were not known in the recorded history? What did they want with such a meeting? _

The answer wasn't long in coming. The natural whiteness of the assembly hall dimmed for the briefest of moments, and then a ball of an intensely bright light exploded in their midst, temporarily blinding everyone. Shielding his eyes with his hand, Menelaus stared ahead, watching as the light and smoke from the explosion dissipated, revealing a group of three young-looking women clad in long sleeveless robes of luminous white. _The Moirae._ Tall, with long blond hair that fell in beautiful waves about their naked shoulders, golden sashes wrapped tightly around their wasp-like waistlines, the haughty looks of their cold blue eyes... -- three Ice Queens, almost identical if not for the strikingly different shades of blue of those same eyes: the light, almost baby blue of the youngest – Clotho, the intense, brilliant blue of the middle one – Lachesis, and the dark, ominous blue of the oldest – Atropos. Those eyes calmly scanned the nervous faces before them, stopping their gazes on Menelaus.

"We have considered your request, elder Menelaus."

He jumped involuntarily at the mention of his name, looking apprehensively at Moira Lachesis, as he waited for her to continue.

"It is not our usual practice to put such cases under review. However, in this instance, we felt the adjustment was, indeed, necessary." The Moira's lips twisted in a wry smile, "After all, there wasn't a single creature in the history of the world that dared to go through with the Omega spell." She paused, throwing a quick glance at her sisters, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Therefore, we decided to grant life to one Cole Turner."

Several pairs of eyes stared at the Moirae for several minutes in stunned silence, then the Assembly Hall exploded in a cacophony of agitated, angry voices.

The three sisters stood calmly, as a torrent of "you have got to be kidding me's", "no way's", "this is impossible's" and the like poured on them from all sides. One scream of protest, however, got their attention.

"You have no right to do that! Not without first discussing it with the Council," exclaimed elder Kronus.

"Really?" the slightly raucous voice of Moira Atropos rang especially ominously in the sudden quiet that followed the elder's words. She took several slow and deliberate steps toward the blundering elder, taking no heed of the white-cloaked figures around her that drew back in near panic with her every move.

Stopping less than a foot away, she stared fixedly at him, her dark-blue eyes growing darker still, until they became two bottomless pools of deathly black. And the elder shrunk back in near horror, as he felt a blanket of ice-cold air envelop him suddenly, chilling him to the very core. The Moira's eyes, however, seemed to be pulling him back to her, and, quite despite himself, his legs took a slow and shaky step forward closer to the sinister glare of her dark orbs.

"Funny," Atropos remarked coolly, her voice dripping with disdain, "and here I was under the impression that my sisters and I didn't even have to answer to gods, let alone _elders._" (She spit out that last word like a rotten piece of weeks-old food). "I must have been deeply mistaken, when I thought that I could just take a pair of these in one hand," a pair of large sharp scissors appeared in her hand, -- "and your life's thread in the other and snap!" – she snapped the scissors shut right in front of the elder's nose, making the latter nearly jump out of his skin, -- "No more elder Kronus." The Moira smiled an unkind, frightening smile, obviously enjoying the elder's reaction to her words, and then turned slightly, surveying the apprehensive white-robed crowd around her. "Does anyone else have similar objections?" When no one replied, she turned her gaze back to Kronus, who was at this very moment wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, and concluded calmly, "I guess you're the only one."

"I'm… I'm sorry if I offended you…," Kronus mumbled, finally finding his voice. "I meant no off-"

The Moira silenced him with a sharp wave of her hand. "Don't grovel," she crinkled her nose in disgust, letting her eyes go back to their normal color. "Just remember that next time the cut will be for real," and with that she left to stand back with her sisters.

A short silence fell on the Assembly Hall, the elders glancing nervously at one another, each of them hesitant to speak after the Moira's little show of power. Finally, one of them overcame his unease.

"Forgive my insolence," elder Arturo said with a curt bow, "but I was always under the impression that the Moirae were not in the charity business." He swallowed sharply, noticing them narrow their eyes in obvious displeasure, but he kept his voice firm as he continued: "May I inquire if there is another reason for which you have decided to bring that demon back to life?"

Menelaus, who found himself being no less entertained by the whole exchange with Kronus than the Moirae, gave a soft whistle of surprise upon hearing Arturo's words. He had clearly underestimated him. _Who would have thought Arturo would have enough gall to speak so boldly to the Fates themselves? This was quite unexpected and, at the same time, quite opportune. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there are still among them those who are worthy of wearing the white robes. Maybe he could—_

His train of thought was interrupted, as Moira Lachesis begun to speak.

"You are correct in your assumption, elder Arturo," she stated coldly, "rude but correct. Cole Turner's resurrection will serve a purpose. He will become a guardian."

"Guardian of what?"

"Not of what," Lachesis corrected him, "of whom. The Great Sorceress."

Menelaus felt his jaw literally drop at this announcement. _The Great Sorceress? So soon? According to everyone's calculations, she wasn't supposed to appear yet. What was going on?_

"This can't be right," elder Cassius chimed in, voicing what Menelaus and the other elders were thinking. "According to all our sources, the Great Sorceress is not supposed to appear for at least another thousand years. Why would you be resurrecting Turner now? There must be some mistake--"

Moira Clotho smiled condescendingly. "We do not make mistakes," she explained softly to the perplexed elder. "Until very recently, your information _**was**_ indeed correct. But circumstances have changed ... thanks to your colleague there, by the way," she pointed her delicate white hand in the direction of Kronus.

Everyone's heads turned to Kronus for explanation, but the latter merely stood there with his mouth hanging open and a look of utter confusion plastered on his face.

"I don't unders-," he attempted, cutting himself short, as he felt absolutely helpless in trying to think of any logical explanation to what the Moira was saying.

"It's all quite simple actually," Clotho smiled, barely containing her amusement at his obvious distress. "You, Kronus, set Cole Turner up to encounter the little girl he failed to save the first time, thus giving him a chance to try and save her again. You, of course, were hoping that by trying to help this girl he would get himself captured and tortured by the demon he was sent after." The Moira's tone grew colder, as she continued: "Your calculations were correct, but Turner did manage to save that girl. She wasn't supposed to live, and yet she did." Clotho paused for emphasis, briefly meeting the intense gazes of her listeners. "The girl survived," she finished, "and her _line_ was continued."

A flash of sudden understanding swept through the group of elders like a flood wave. Eyes wide, they stared at the three Fates as if the Moirae had each grown an extra head.

"It's not possible…," Kronus gasped, horrified by the twisted irony of this situation. "It can't be…"

"Oh, but it is," the youngest Moira objected. "This girl, Hannah Golberg's, lineage pointed very strongly to a possibility of producing a Great One. Your calculations ignored her lineage, because she was supposed to die in 1944. But since you've allowed the demon to change that timeline…well…," Clotho paused, smiling briefly at her sisters, "let's just say, Hannah will very soon become a grandmother to one of the most powerful babies in the history of this world."

"And Cole Turner will become this baby's guardian," added Lachesis, "and make sure that she lives to become what she is destined to become."

"So it has been decided, and so shall it be," nodded Atropos.

And without another word, the three sisters vanished as they appeared – in a blinding ball of light, leaving the stunned elders to mull over this new twist.

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**Phew. Just one little epilogue left. And then maybe a sequel?... I've got a couple of ideas... well, we'll see :)**

**Please review!**


	17. Epilogue

**A/N The final chapter is here! Yeah! Thought I'd never get to it, didn't you? :) Well, I'm sorry for the wait. Hope it won't disappoint you.**

**REDEMPTION IN BLOOD**

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**Epilogue**

A tall dark-haired man stood leaning against the trunk of an oak tree still wet from a recent rain. An occasional gust of cool October wind would blow by him, making him uncomfortably aware of the dampness at his back, but he refused to change his position. Arms crossed on his broad chest, head tilted slightly to the left, he seemed completely lost in thought, and, judging by a deep crease in his forehead, thoughts running through his head were not pleasant ones.

Suddenly, the air behind him shifted, and he tensed visibly.

"So what was your reason for resurrecting me now?" he asked without turning. "Do you plan on burning me alive at the stake this time around?"

"Hmm, personally, I never understood the humans' fascination with this particular ritual," the sound of a female voice startled him, and he turned abruptly, finding himself face to face with a tall blue-eyed blonde.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked sharply, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm Lachesis," she replied calmly, taking a small step in his direction. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

There was a brief flash of surprise in the man's deep blue eyes, but the expression was soon replaced by one of resigned indifference.

"I didn't know the Moirae needed ex-demons to run their errands for them," he quipped, letting his hands drop slowly at his sides, fighting the urge to clench his fists. His voice, though cold and seemingly calm, betrayed an underlying fury that threatened to burst forth at any moment. "But whatever it is that you came here to offer me, I ain't buying. So don't even bother wasting your breath. …Just send me the hell back."

He stood firm before her, his jaw set in a tight line, his eyes boring into hers. He knew full well what could be the consequences of speaking to a Moira this way, and he fully expected to be blown to bits in the very next moment, as the all-powerful goddess unleashed her own fury at him. He could care less, though. In fact, he rather welcomed the idea. He was too tired of jumping through someone else's hoops, tired of paying with his own feelings and his own hide for someone else's benefit. He was due for a good rest. And he'll be damned if he didn't get it. ...One way or another...

Without saying a word, Lachesis took several more steps in his direction, until only inches separated them, and looked searchingly into his eyes. He didn't flinch under her inquisitive stare. _"Any minute now," _he thought, steeling himself for the pain that was to come.

But the pain never came. Instead, the Moira took a small step back and, to his utter bewilderment, smiled. And there was nothing sinister in that smile of hers either. If anything, it was one of amusement.

"Sorry, Cole," she laughed good-naturedly, "there won't be any rest for the weary. Not yet, at least."

Her words made him jump involuntarily, and he once again crossed his arms on his chest to hide his discomfiture.

"What do you want from me?" he asked in the same defiant tone as before.

Lachesis merely shook her head, not even trying to hide her amazement. "You know," she began, looking him up and down, "I have never yet known **anyone** to display such an attitude in front of me or my sisters. Not unless they were suicidal of course," she added mockingly, once again mercilessly hinting at the fact that she did, in effect, read his thoughts. "You must **really** be tired," she drawled pensively, as she reached out her hand toward his face.

He started as her cold fingers pressed against his forehead, but he suddenly felt some of his weariness melt away, as if drawn out by her touch.

She broke contact as suddenly as she initiated it, and gave him another encouraging smile. "There. Better now?" And without waiting for a response, she continued, "Unfortunately, it will have to do, for I cannot promise you rest any time soon. An urgent matter has come up, and, as you may well imagine, your assistance is required."

"Why me?" he asked hoarsely, still unbelieving of what occurred in the past few minutes.

"You are the only one who would be able to handle the responsibilities of a guardianship."

"Guardianship?" he asked incredulously, some of his earlier defiance creeping back into his voice. "Of what, may I ask?"

"Not of what," she corrected him patiently, "of whom. The Great Sorceress?"

"**Me** protecting the Great Sorceress?" He couldn't help scoffing at the suggestion. "First of all, I wasn't even aware that one was expected to be born any time soon. And secondly, and **most importantly**, why would I even care? Why should I risk my neck for yet another witch? I've had enough of them to last me **several** lifetimes. Thanks, but, no thanks." He turned his back to her, making it clear that, at least for his part, the conversation was over.

The Moira had other ideas however. "She is not just some witch," she offered calmly, hiding a mischievous glint in her eyes. "She is the granddaughter of someone you used to know very well. Does the name Hannah Golberg ring a bell?"

As she expected, he tensed visibly upon hearing her last words, and she mentally congratulated herself on a game well played, for she no longer doubted the end result.

He stood immobile for a few seconds, trying to collect his thoughts, before slowly turning back to face her.

"She's alive?" he whispered brokenly, his eyes -- a wild mixture of hope and pain.

Lachesis was slightly taken aback by the raw emotion she felt emanating from the ex-demon. _"Highly unusual," _she thought, _"yet essential to his future task."_

"You did save her," she said out loud.

"I… I didn't know if she survived the war," he managed hoarsely.

"She did," Lachesis confirmed. "and was able to continue her line. And that is why we decided to resurrect you. You are, essentially, responsible for this new Great Sorceress being born, so it is only natural that you should become her Guardian."

He nodded silently, trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

"As her Guardian, you will be responsible for teaching her about magic and for protecting her from any and all danger," the Moira continued. "And there will be plenty of that, especially before she comes into her powers. It will not be an easy task, but an extremely important one. And you will have help." She paused, studying the ex-demon before her. He seemed conflicted, uncertain. "Will you accept the charge?" she asked softly.

He raised his head to look at her, and she smiled contentedly, seeing the quiet resolve in his eyes. "Yes," he whispered, confirming her guess.

"Then you better go over there," she nodded at something behind his back. "There is someone there that you should meet." And she smiled once again, before disappearing in a quick flash of light.

Still somewhat stunned by the news, he turned in the direction the Moira was pointing. Across the street from where he was standing there was a small one-storey house with a neat little garden. An old woman stood there, raking the damp leaves that collected on the flowerbeds after the recent downpour. He started slowly across the street, watching the old woman. She stopped raking suddenly, taking a minute to catch her breath, and at that moment her eyes met his. She froze, peering at him intently, and then as he was already standing at the low fence that surrounded her humble abode, a light of recognition flashed in her tired eyes, and she walked briskly toward him. And with agility, quite unexpected of someone of her age, she reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"Cole."

The end.

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**Well, what do you think? I know it's a bit short, but I hope you'll forgive me for that when I tell you that there will DEFINITELY be a sequel to this story (and, hopefully, one you'll enjoy).**

**Thank you all for reading!**

**Oh, and don't forget to review :)**


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